the smell...there is a certain scent to freshly caught fish waiting to be filleted...the coveted filleting knife...the precision and speed of dad filleting the fish ... the hands...hands of a seasoned fisherman turning his catch into a delicious meal...the black iron frying pan...hearing it sizzle...the smell...mmm...anticipating the consumption of the catch of the day...these are all memories of the times dad went ice fishing...i'm so glad dad still enjoys this pastime and shares it with his family
2 comments:
K --- there is also the companionship and association of tales of the past and stories shared during the actual fishing time. Ask your dad about all the 'TANGLED LINES' and good food on a snowy, windy day. People who have never been in an ice fishing hut have missed a part of life.
CAD
Thanks CAD for adding to my blog!! I guess I'm going to have to go with you all next time...I have never been ice fishing in a hut before...can you believe it!!! I remember ice fishing..sort of...with dad and the oger on Balsam Lake, I think, many years ago!! Thanks for sharing memories with my dad!! K
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