Warm sleeping bag. Cold morning air. The grass heavy with dew. The sky bright with promise. Birds chirp. The temptation to sleep battles the temptation to fish. A full
Teaching people to fly fish sucks.
Its a noble thing surely, but its also a royal pain in the ass.
You spend the day tying and untying knots when you could be fishing, worrying
“Winter’s Love” – Animal Collective
Three flights and a boat ride away from your world.
It all sort of melts away the moment you step off the panga. Everything stops to matter
“She says springtime’s coming, wait ’til you see It’s poking through with them shoots of beauty It’s the end of rent-a-movie weather It’s time to end this siege together” –
“Winter Road” – Bill Callahan
Hours of anticipation, all for a few seconds of composed chaos.
The dog’s demeanor changes. Bodies go tense. An uneasy silence settles in. The safety clicks. Suddenly a rush of
“A Day Is Very Long” – Doug Paisley
the warm sun of September,
the bitter wind of November.
up and down the valley hills,
over yellow grasses, under blue skies
“Way Out Weather” – Steve Gunn
Shoulder season in the Northern Rockies. Wet snow, morning frost, frozen waders, howling winds, spitting cold rain, overcast skies, balmy
“We’ll Find Out” – Timber Timbre
The dog and I were just out for a little stroll through the back forty. I had brought the shotgun along, (because it was finally legal to do
“Fiery Death” – Siskiyou
Point the truck north. No plans, no preconceptions. Gone to poke around. Gone just to see what secrets the vastness may reveal. Gone for the sake of