Happy birthday, Ernest

You were no saint but you left an enduring legacy.

Whenever we are told that fishing is the province of dull men with personalities like wet cement, we inform our critics that Ernest Hemingway fished.

And for the briefest moment, their knowing smiles weaken, their bullishness wavers and we know we have them.

For that, we will always raise a glass to you.

I believe you also wrote a bit.

[pic courtesy of Epiclectic]

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Pic of the Day – Red Quill Ranch, Montana

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