How easily I have settled into summer. Morning hunts and hot, windy afternoons, three and four weight flyrods, yellow sulfurs and my armada of terrestrials – these are the things summer is made of. I love the taste of an ice-cold beer on the porch as supper crackles on the grill, the ballgame afterwards, and the feel of that special coolness when evening turns to twilight.
I’m taking a holiday today, a rest from the relentless pursuit of angling grace. Flies have been tied, and gear will be seen to before the cold one and the afternoon ballgame tear me away from fishing thoughts.
There is still another pattern lurking in my subconscious, one I have tried to find for quite a long time now. Perhaps it will finally take shape, but for now it’s essence remains ephemeral.
Bright Waters Catskill 