I've just sat down at my local library to write about some of our recent fishing trips and I encountered a problem I've had all year, writer's block. I've tried exercises varying from free writing to forcing myself into 1000 words to switching up where I write. Needless to say, not much of it has worked. They say (who are they anyway?) that this condition can last a few weeks to a few years. I'd like to think I'm still in a curable stage and can recover without too much treatment. I put a bit of effort into some technical 'how-to' writing, but what can I teach you that you don't already know? I'm stuck with the metaphorical gibberish.
Read moreStill Here
There’s a chile roaster in a just about every grocery store parking lot. The aspen trees are changing from green to bright yellow and orange. All of the trout have decked themselves out in their best fall colors. Mornings are brisk, usually in the 40s; afternoons are full-on summer. For me, this is the most magical time of the year and usually one of the hardest.
In years past, this is the week that Jacob and I would pack up our little Subaru, full of beer that we couldn’t find back East and goodies that we couldn’t live without, usually a collection of rocks and other treasures found along trout streams. It’s the time of year that we say “see ya’ later” to the place we love so much, but not this year.
Read moreDays That Make Us Thankful
t seems that Jacob and I have started our own, very unique tradition. For a few years now, we've bypassed the conventional expectations of how we're 'supposed' to celebrate holidays. Instead of gathering with those we hardly speak to, consuming enormous amounts of food and pretending to show interest in a game we care nothing about, we head to the river. Many people scoff at us, while others feel sorry for us (assuming we have nowhere to go). I expect to some folks it is rather strange, but to us, it's pretty perfect.
Read moreAt Least The Views Were Good
It seemed like the perfect day. The sky was overcast, but not raining. It was almost 60 degrees out and hadn't gotten below 50 during the night. We began dreaming of baetis hatches and big browns. It was bound to be the perfect day.
Read moreThe Song of Fall
Last week was heavy. I’m sure I’m not alone in thinking that. I’ve spent some time over the past few weeks contemplating the changing of the seasons, how my seasons in life are altering me.
I reminded myself, and am now reminding all of you, to embrace the song of fall.
Read moreFarewell To Summer
The changing of seasons is always difficult for me. Mostly because I'm impatient and I want it to happen right away. I expect flowers to bloom the first day of spring and 40 degree nights the beginning of autumn. Apparently, mother nature still hasn't received my memo.
Here in Western North Carolina, we've had a particularly long, wet, warm year. Jacob and I recently joked that we saw a groundhog and he told us there would be six more weeks of summer.
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