the old slider windows of the boathouse were as thick as icing and multilayered. It was hard to tell if the spiders were weaving out of boredom or if they actually knew what was about to flit their way. We were three weeks into May, which meant, at least on the red clay banks of Lake Arrowhead in north Texas, that we’d go to bed with sheets
The Mayfly Connection
Apr 15, 2024
2 minutes
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