|North Country trout stream|
Photo by J. Harrington
Some of the best advice about how and why to go fishing involves not hurrying, spending time observing what's going on around you, and being attentive to what's going on in the stream. Among all the other flotsam and jetsam we've found in trout streams over the years, hatch charts and aquatic entomology references were never among the debris. Fish don't read books. Fish feed on something or other depending on what's hatching, drifting or otherwise catching the attention of hungry fish.
|from "Open House for Butterflies"|
There are other whole schools of thought about humans needing language and words and names to comprehend reality as we encounter it. There is no doubt an element of truth to those thoughts, but, perhaps, we have lost our sense of proportion and balance in thinking we could substitute reading for reality. At least with warmer weather coming, and the promise of waters opening up and flowing, we'll be able to more readily spend less time in a chair on our butt and more time on our feet in or near a stream. We've reached the point where reality needs to replace reading. We're looking forward to seeing what's on or in the water and then if we can match it, regardless of what it or they may be called. Rhea did point out the fly shop has about a different, but similar, variations on the "blue-winged olive." All are know as BWO's. Then we remembers, on the drive home, something Shakespeare said about a rose, by any other....
This is the way water thinks about the desert. The way the thought of water gives you something to stumble on. A ghost river. A sentence trailing off toward lower ground. A finger pointing at the rest of the show. I wanted to read it. I wanted to write a poem and call it “Ephemeral Stream” because you made of this imaginary creek a hole so deep it looked like a green eye taking in the storm, a poem interrupted by forgiveness. It’s not over yet. A dream can spend all night fighting off the morning. Let me start again. A stream may be a branch or a beck, a crick or kill or lick, a syke, a runnel. It pours through a corridor. The door is open. The keys are on the dashboard.
Thanks for visiting. Come again when you can.
Please be kind to each other while you can.