Through out the summer and fall, Monkey and I would walk the parameter of the lake. Often we would find what he began to call treasure- the remnants of battle's lost by local fisherman. Each time we were out,the game to find as much treasure as possible grew. Unfortunately, at times my lack of desire to be knee deep in muck would cause quite the heartbreak. But as mother's do in those moments of disparity, in an attempt to hold back the alligator tears, I made promises of future adventures. So after weeks of Monkey asking, and sub-arctic temperatures I determined the ice was officially safe for a "treasure hunt". Truly, one mans trash is another mans treasure.
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