Someone started the fish book the year the boat was built. Dad was six years old that year and I can imagine him hanging around Grandpa’s shop listening to the Uncles as they hammered and glued and put the boat together. In a weird time shift, see me at 6 years old in the shop at our house in Oregon where my Dad was building his own boat. Mahogany. I remember; the smell of planed wood and many coats of varnish.
dreamingofsquirrels 
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