My brother and his sweetie came by this weekend, as I wanted them to visit before they went off to spend a year in the mountains of the Pacific Northwest. They brought with them two treasures which I will attempt to photograph and display here.

My brother is like my polar opposite. He's quiet and slow. I'm hyper and loud. I thrive in the city, and he rarely leaves the woods. He only talks when he has something to say. I talk- well, if you've met me, you know. He's very wise, and knows everything about the woods- which mushrooms are edible, which trees you can get bait out of, what to do if you run across a baby owl. He's what they call an "old soul". I'm lucky to have him.

He was a bit out of his element in the city, but he weathered it well. His sweetie comes out of the woods now and then so she didn't seem so out of place. She's a fishing widow, if there is such a thing.

My grandpa once said that he loves to go fishing with my brother because they'll be out on the boat for five hours and at the end my brother will say, "Thank you, grandpa, I enjoyed that very much." My brother says he just likes to listen to Grandpa's stories. I don't know which one of 'em gets the better end of the deal.