Wednesday, July 23, 2008

Buster Wants to Fish

I tried, gentle reader, I tried.

I determined not to make this blog one dedicated to a single facet of my personality...namely my love for fly fishing. There are blogs dedicated to single interests, but I didn't want that restriction. Besides, not all my friends are not as interested as I in that pursuing fish with a fly, and I didn't want to run them off. Alas, this entry will be almost entirely fishy. But do come along.

There is not a day that passes that I don't think, talk, read or dream about fly fishing. Sometimes I am working in the man room tying flies. Sometimes I am just flipping through one of my several magazines or catalogs, dreaming of fishing trips to Colorado, Alaska, Chile...and so on. Other times I am working on restoring the old fly rod of dad's that I am rebuilding. It was the first fly rod I ever used as a young boy, but that is a story for another time. You get the picture. But I am not obsessed. I can quit anytime I want to. Really...

It has been a couple weeks since I have been to the streams and creeks. I am getting edgy with the continual press of responsibility; without the release I get from fly fishing. The little creek near the house is very low now. I haven't been there lately.

A river is not far away...a limestone bedded river with stretches of gin clear water. It is mostly overlooked by other fisherpersons, to my delight.

My bride is planning a getaway (known in our house as the "girls gone mild" tour) this weekend, leaving me to fend for myself. Perhaps...just perhaps the time will be right for a tryst with the sunrise on the river known only by a few.

A time to listen to the magic sound of water running over stone... birds singing their breakfast songs...
A time to feel night-cooled water seep into my boots and wash away the work weariness that has accumulated like so much dust on my soul...
A time to be lost in the rythmic poetry of casting a fly and watching it land feather-soft on smooth-as-glass water.
A time to live.

Tight Lines


Steph said...

Brother! While your bride and I are on our trip (which by the way has been re-dubbed "Girls Gone Milder than Wild but Wilder than Mild" trip) you should go fish and listen to bubble gin water and breakfast birds wearing seepy boots and carrying a poetic feathery pole and stuff. You know. Go live. ;)

Love ya!

Anonymous said...

Aint living great?
Insert 'photography' for 'fly fishing' and that's my post about living.

Yay for you!

Mark said... slay me! I think I almost snorted when I read your post ;-)

Pinky...yeah, living is pretty cool...but it's just practice for later! Photography fascinates me, being a visual person. I just haven't found the artist's eye in me I'll live vicariously through you and other photo-friends...keep snapping!

tdillow said...

"There is not a day that passes that I don't think, talk, read or dream about fly fishing." Gee honey, I thought all this time it was me that you were "talking, thinking, reading and dreaming" about. Well I see where I rate ;) Just joking babe. I'm glad you have this hobby, it could be worse.

tdillow said...

Have fun my husband! I hope the creeks are filled for you now with the rain. But please be careful as too much might wash you away.

steph's mom said...

I'm very impressed. Did you come up with that last paragraph all by yourself? I mean no disrespect, gentle writer, just discovering more of your talent. As much as I love your blog...I would read your book. And, I'm selective about who I read. Not because I'm such a great literary critic (sorry, I snorted), but because I'm pretty simple and must be entertained, not just informed by the author, and you entertain me. I look forward to each new post.

Hope you have a great weekend. Just you and the fishes. Looking forward to reading all about it, or whatever else you wish to share.

Sara Lisch said...

One word to describe the picture..."DORK"

Mark said...

steph's mom...thanks for the compliment. I'm glad you like the blog. I'd love to write a book one day, or publish some magazine articles.

Yes, I came up with the words on my own, and no disrespect taken.

Sara...c'mon, can't you see doing an adventure race in a fishing tube like that one? If you've ever fished from an inner might be a redneck...If you never have, you might be bored ;-)