This “summer” is going nicely, with the appropriate amount of winter pull and summer push involved in the springtime weather. We got up to 90 degrees briefly a couple of weeks ago, and the last couple of days have struggled to get up over sixty degrees. Some would heap scorn upon this sort of weather, but to me it conserves precious runoff and soil moisture, giving those sure-to-come high nineties something to lean against in my mind and soul.
Ryan and I have had great opportunities to feel like we’re making progress as fly fishermen. I’ve been heading up to the Huntington River over the mountain quite frequently, and over to the Thousand Lake Mountain vicinity a few times to try out what we’ve learned about dry fly tossing. Success has been had, and the birds accompanying us to the waters have been a delight to see and hear as we’re doing our best to fool the wise old fish with our less than expert casts. I’m sure I’ve heard a few Mountain Bluejays laugh under their calls.
The Burningkids have been running around our field making forts and playing with our neighbor’s goats between baseball practices and games all around the county. Jerusha, Jesse and Bryn are each playing on a separate team, having fun and learning the virtues and vices of competitive sports in the process. We hope our kids don’t have too much of Drie’s and my curse of being Nowhere People after a fashion, but I’m afraid the kid’s discussions with us about their peculiar observations of human nature and behavior on their team don’t bode well for their social conformity. But who really knows what the future holds? Certainly not I.
Hope springs eternal afterall, especially during the glorious spring of the year, so I think I’ll go outside and dig a hole for a tree.
Ryan and I have had great opportunities to feel like we’re making progress as fly fishermen. I’ve been heading up to the Huntington River over the mountain quite frequently, and over to the Thousand Lake Mountain vicinity a few times to try out what we’ve learned about dry fly tossing. Success has been had, and the birds accompanying us to the waters have been a delight to see and hear as we’re doing our best to fool the wise old fish with our less than expert casts. I’m sure I’ve heard a few Mountain Bluejays laugh under their calls.
The Burningkids have been running around our field making forts and playing with our neighbor’s goats between baseball practices and games all around the county. Jerusha, Jesse and Bryn are each playing on a separate team, having fun and learning the virtues and vices of competitive sports in the process. We hope our kids don’t have too much of Drie’s and my curse of being Nowhere People after a fashion, but I’m afraid the kid’s discussions with us about their peculiar observations of human nature and behavior on their team don’t bode well for their social conformity. But who really knows what the future holds? Certainly not I.
Hope springs eternal afterall, especially during the glorious spring of the year, so I think I’ll go outside and dig a hole for a tree.