Up north we call the panfish with the dark coloring around the gills a bluegill. I the south they call it a brim, spelled bream. I going to start calling it a brim….gotta blend.
Took my first brim out of Lofton Creek the other day. I tossed the little fella back as I usually do but they do make a wonderful fish fry if you catch enough of them.
I love fishing. I enjoy catching too but I always tell people that I fish because I like where they live.
Saddled up and heading back up north to tie up some loose ends. But first I had to load up on Missy’s breakfast buffet. The other day the delightful Tiffany chided me for not mentioning the peach muffins so let me say that they are out of this world. Thanks for reminding me Tiffany!
It was a quiet last night at The Shimmering Pines Motel. The Texans were gone and so was there unmistakable cowboy/trailer park energy. Adios corn fritos I say.
Tiffany had some interesting comments about the nature of the southerner. The accent, the apparent openness and seeming good nature all throw us Yankees off at first. And the Yankee who writes them off as dumb or shiftless does so at their own peril, at least intellectually. This southern culture, which I haven’t even begun the scratch, is as complex or more so than the one I just escaped from.