Last evening’s jaunt overto the fishing hole was a little warm..I think my watch said 87. I’ve been running around in tank tops which is something I would would never wear in public at home…the tree canopies cooled it down and then as always, the closer we got to the stream the cooler it was. I picked out my bench and settled in to watch him fish. I didn’t really even care if he hooked anything just the occasional relaxing cool breeze, the beauty of nature and watching the poetry of my husbands fly fishing technique. The trout that jumped full body in an arc out of the water beside him will always stick in my memory.
The trout and the Veteran. Grizzled old guy ,,,, probably my age,,,sitting on a lawn chair packing up his fishing supplies was approached by a woman walking a dog. By his license plate she must have realized he was a veteran? She stopped asked if she could shake his hand and thanked him for his service. I assumed he was a lonely old angler because he started talking about his three deployments the last of which was Desert Storm. He had been injured several times and had been treated back home for those injuries along with a couple rounds of cancer. He was delighted that he could actually fly fish this trip to Bennett because even last year he could not get his arm up high enough to cast. He was joyful. IT brought tears to my eyes. So many lessons here! so much gratitude!
The scenery sounds almost hypnotic.
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