Day 142: Casting About

Fisherman passing time in the Boise River

Fisherman passing time in the Boise River

I miss fly fishing. It has been too long ago and far away; I barely remember standing in a river and waving a stick and I’m not even sure where it was. It was in Idaho, I am sure, but I couldn’t tell you what river, or stream was flowing over my boots. On the drive back from an afternoon soccer match ( with a detour for an ice cream cone) I spotted these men in the late afternoon light and pulled over to remember; to remember the feel of the cold water wrapping around my legs, to remember the sound of the river, like wind through the trees, to remember the sight of a fly floating downstream. I stopped to remember. And then I left.

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