essays and musings on fly fishing for native trout
time
Under the Press of Time
As we drive the dark road east, I look up where stars dot a narrow path through the morning. I feel the press of hundreds of feet of sheer canyon walls more than see them. Ahead of us the dawn unwinds its hours, slowly unveiling the skyline—a jagged, ancient silhouette stretching for miles.
Autumn Turns Against the Current
It is said that the autumn of our life is a slow and steady slip into winter, synonymous with the time when animals hibernate and plants die. Some might think of it as more of a homesickness, not a geographical homesickness, but a chronological one—a time for reflection, for looking back at what was. Autumn is a matter of perspective—of seeing our current time as just that, current.
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