Saturday, January 30, 2010
I’m supposed to be standing in a Smokey Mountain creek right now, a fly rod in my hand. Instead, I’m sitting here at home, gazing out of my window at a winter landscape, held at bay by snow-obscured, icy roadways. It’s Mother Nature's latest, and most desperate, effort to disrupt my fishing plans. I should be disappointed, but I'm really very happy to be home.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
I walked slowly today. It was hard.
Today was errands day in town and I had a lot of places to go. The post office, the recycle center, the Food Lion, the hardware store, the co-operative marketplace. For some reason, I don’t know why, I parked in the far reaches of each lot and strolled slowly everywhere I went. Years of habitual hurrying have programmed me otherwise, hustling and bustling to make a living, but today I focused on every step, felt the strike of each heel and each push of my toes. I languished in each stride and kept my breath deep and slow to match my snail’s pace. I walked as if I had all day. Luckily, I did.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Silence. Crisp, wintery silence. No, not exactly silence. Something better. Silence gently wrapped around the soothing white noise of an icy, tumbling mountain stream. Silence overlaid by the soft swish of a fly rod, the hushed whisper of line sliding through guides, the occasional rasp of a reel feeding a hungry cast. Silence attained by the crunch of boots in a blanket of snow and the sound of misty breath in cold air. Silence filled with subtle sound. Silence, then, not for the ears, but for the soul.
The silence of a solitary fly fisherman.
Friday, January 1, 2010
I swear, it's a complete coincidence that the annual New Years Day Redbud Polar Plunge began the year that we moved into the neighborhood. Yes, I may have been hanging around the tap at Rich's 60th birthday party, some three years ago, when the idea came bubbling up from the bottom of the keg, but, though the details of that evening still remain a bit murky, I'm certain that I wouldn't have encouraged such insanity in any way. But however it started, at noon today we stood ready to hit the water to start another year.
But I'm getting ahead of myself here. Our New Years activities really begin the evening before with The Crawl.