No ratings.
Using nature to find peace of soul |
Yellow-bright, sun draws leaved patterns on canvas, ending dreams of creels full of shining speckled beauties. Woodsmoke, smelling of boiled coffee, drifts in ethereal patterns telling me that Paul has already begun our breakfast. Coffee with day-old doughnuts Quickly we collect our gear and clamber carefully down dewdamp banks. Slanting sunlight begins to warm our shoulders and we take care to drop no shadow on the water to warn of our approach. The brook burbles and rills ’round rocks and through the shallows. Long shadows of Walnuts, oaks and doomed butternut trees Crouching we peek silently over edge to see dark shadows and silver flashes of sleek bodies suspended or sliding through copper-clear depths of water pooled behind a tree-trunk dam where mirrored surface breaks with silver flash of feeding fish. Tackle boxes hold our hopes clipped to our waists We search among bits of yarn and feathers with names like Black Gnat, Blue Dunn, or Bitch Creek Nymph, looking for a lure that looks so like the hatch that wily trout cannot refrain from catching it and so in turn be caught. We tie the hooked temptations to tapered ends of transparent leaders. Sun begins to break over the trees and warms away the early chill. The lightest of breezes whispers, rearranging leaves in shifting patterns of green. The sounds of brook and birdsongs break the morning stillness. Rushing water gurgles icy around waders and the current tugs and tries to pull us over. Fly line swishes overhead and lures land lightly where intuition tells us lunkers lie. Too soon the rise is ended. The last ripples no longer break the pool’s reflections, and speckled bodies are only passing shadows seeking shade of undercuts and overhanging trees. We pack our gear and head to camp, content with creels full of sleek bodies … or holding only drying leaves … It really does not matter! because for one tiny bit of time war and politics and headlines filled with news of man’s inhumanity to man were just a mummer, a babbling undercurrent that could be submerged in shadowed pools and flashing bodies. And for that moment we lived in peace and proper awe of all God’s gifts. |