Brother was still at memory, we could tell. Silence we thought was heavy about us, but there was so much going on. A bird talked to us from a high limb¹. A fox called to her young. We were on the Pine River once again, nearly a hundred miles from home, in Paradise².

 

"Name's Roger Treadwell. Boys are Nathan and Truett." The introductions had been accounted for.

 

Old Venerable Roger Treadwell, carpenter, fly fisherman, rocker, leaned forward and said, "You boys wouldn't have a couple spare beers, would ya?"

 

Now that's the way to start the day on the Pine River.

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