Brothers

There's no other love like the love for a brother.

There's no other love like the love from a brother.

                                                                             Astrid Alauda

 

This is Pretty Boy, my brother, taken a few years ago

 during one of our early spring ritual camping trips.

We fish for trout from the lake bank.

We've not put a sizeable dent in the trout population.

 

 

We've slept in the cold, in the rain, on the ground, in a tent.

One year it was so cold, I put on all the clothes I brought from home,

and I was still cold.

I seriously thought of climbing into my car and sleeping,

better yet, going home.

 

 

But,there is always light at the end of the cold, wet night.

 

 

Stir up the coals, get the fire going.  It's breakfast time. 

Nothing is more satisfying than cooking over a camp fire.

And, nothing tastes better than breakfast cooked outdoors,

especially after a cold, wet night.

 

 

Peppered bacon, fried potatoes and onions, pancakes and toast,

washed down with freshly perked coffee and some orange juice from the cooler.

I think Pretty Boy, not a fan of coffee, had a Pepsi with his breakfast. . .

totally allowable when you're camping

 

 

My brother, Pretty Boy, has hit a bump in the road. 

He has a few rough weeks ahead of him. 

Please keep him in your thoughts and prayers.

There will be light at the end of this tunnel.