“Many men go fishing all their lives without knowing that it is not fish they are after.”
– Thoreau
This is what I tell myself on days I don’t catch any fish. Fishing for trout is vastly different from fishing for bass (what I’ve done much more of recently) – flies smaller than my pinky fingernail disappear in moving water and easily spooked trout will turn their noses up at your offering if it’s not presented perfectly, or if it’s not the right color, or if the sun casts your shadow over them, or if you breathe too heavily…
I had a lot of rust to shake off, but I’m going to do better tomorrow; I can feel it!
It is COLD in Colorado at night… my mind thinks summer, but my numb toes this morning screamed winter! I’m about 9,000 feet above sea level, and there are stubborn patches of snow a mere stone’s throw from my campsite!
I spent time last night and this morning in the Word. I’m reading through Luke, and any time I read about angels appearing to people I chuckle. Not because it’s silly, but because every instance I can think of describes the sheer terror or the folks to whom the angel revealed himself. What creatures angels must be to make humans “like dead men” by just showing up.
I’m headed back up the mountain for another chilly night. Thankfully, I’ve got firewood and I brought lots of socks to layer!