November was a tough month. An old friend, Peter Morrison, passed away on Nov. 5 under tragic circumstances. Much of the rest of the month was spent wondering why, and doing things to occupy my mind. RIP Peter.
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| Jim Prudhomme on the Adams, |
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| A small Adams River rainbow. |
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| A nice little Adams River bull trout |
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| I think I played this one too long... |
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| Another nice bull. |
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| One of my favourite runs on the Methow, a good place to clear one's head. |
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| Pretty nice weather for November. |
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| Sunrise in the Methow Valley. |
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| Chris and Kathy Pasley's new digs near Winthrop. |
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| Display of memorabilia for Peter Morrison at the celebration of his life. |
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| The master giving a casting demonstration in Vernon a few years ago. |
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| Peter dropping into the Capilano River in the '80s. Adam Lewis looks on. |
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| At one of the famous Morrison Lobster Bashes. |
Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
and learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
- Dylan Thomas
