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I love fly fishing, and is one pursuit I intend to get back to now that all the children are off on their own. I began at age six when my father taught me how to work a rod out in the back yard. I stood there for hours feeding the line out, sweeping the rod in long, slow ellipses, trying to drop the little lead sinker into one of several buckets my dad had placed around in the grass. I can still smell the lilacs and feel the breeze coming in from the lake like it was yesterday. God, but that was a long time ago now.

 

 

I need to go dig out my gear.

 

 

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