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Khaki is my most popular rod bag color. Light khaki, dark khaki, lightweight khaki, lightweight light khaki… You get the point. In fact, I have an entire fabric bin dedicated to khaki. All the other colors and flannel fit in another, much small bin. What can I say, people like their muted tones?
But, every once in a while my little sewing world gets rocked with a bit of color. Okay, maybe more than a little.
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The best years any angler will ever have are their first. It's not that during this time you're particularly good at it, far from it, you're pretty horrible. Most of your time is spent tying on a fly or untangling a knot. Your technique is poor, but you can't quite figure out how to fix it. Everyone else around you catch plenty of fish with seemingly no effort, but you only manage to catch trees and sticks, despite trying your hardest. But make no mistake, these are your best years.
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For the past few years, I’ve been lucky enough to spend my first day of fall in Colorado amongst the changing aspen trees. This year is different, I'm at home in North Carolina, and I'll admit that I'm pretty bummed about it.
So, I'll share with you this photo from last year, of my favorite trees, in my favorite place, during my favorite time of year.
I pulled out a flannel this morning (it's a frigid 76 degrees here) put on Back To Autumn by Tall Heights and reminded myself that this is the first day of a new season and a new week, the possibilities are endless!
Happy Fall and Happy Flannel Weather!
Some days hiking over the ridge pays off.
Fishing trips. Oh, how I miss a good fishing trip. Since returning home from Colorado, it's been a whirlwind of work. Yup, that four letter word has crept back into our lives. Between a backlog of rod bags (thank you all!!!), rod building and guiding Jacob and I have only managed to hit the water once. But, I guess that's what you get when you go on a month long vacation.
Last week we decided to put our "to-dos" on the back burner for a couple of hours and run up to the Davidson. It's close to the house, it holds fish, and our favorite brewery is on the way home. Win-win-win.
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"Friend,
When you stray or sit and take your ease
On heath or hill, or under spreading trees,
Pray leave no traces of your wayside meal,
No paper bag, no scattered orange peel,
Nor daily journal littered on the grass;
Others may view these with distaste, and pass;
Let no one say, and say it to your shame,
That all was beauty here until you came."
I've driven past this sign half a dozen times. I always make Jacob pull over so I can read it, admire the flowers growing around it, and feel the breeze flowing through the mountains. Winding down the dirt road I always ask aloud; 'I wonder who wrote that?' And, I forget I've wondered just as soon as I say it. The sentiment, the lesson, is what always stuck.
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