One day prior a chance slipped by, my schedule too full to allow the briefest of sojourns to a nearby river.
But a second sunny day could not be dismissed. Projects pushed aside, a couple of hours in the morning sun. Less than 1 mile from a population of 150,000 people, I stood on a small iced area of the river bank, a place I call “Nick’s Drift.” Over next 120 minutes I meandered back and forth across the shallows, casting into the deeper pools and riffles.
It didn’t take long to land a small rainbow, followed by a skinny brown two casts later. Winter sometimes means leaner fish, but I’m here as much for the solitude and rhythmic interludes of casting as I am catching a fish.
My heart rests easy, my soul smiles. I return home-satisfied-at least for now.