THE VIRTUES OF GROWING OLD - Neil - Jan 14, 2013
THE VIRTUES OF GROWING OLD
The summer sun was high in the big Montana sky and two anglers had retired to the shade of the cabin porch to wait out the long summer afternoon. The dull shrill of the Cicadas in the cottonwood trees was the only sound to break the stillness along the river. One angler was a young man in his early 20's; his blond hair was long and braided in a ponytail beneath his battered felt cowboy hat. The other angler was considerably older; the gray mustache which covered his upper lip was highlighted against his deeply tanned face, and his deep blue eyes matched the Montana sky that spread out overhead like a blanket. The younger man settled into an Adirondack chair quaffing a cold beer and his companion settled into an old wooden rocker sipping from a sweating glass of ice tea.
Tags for this Thread