EYE CANDY
Our sympathy goes to those of you in the mid section of the country, suffering the aftermath of Sunday's deadly storms. And our best thoughts to those facing flooding. Perhaps this post will bring some light into your day. The western edge of the continental US is decked out in spring color.
the bird seemed to be posing
interesting shadow play
UPDATE NOTE FROM BOB
Friends,
A colleague and friend called me, "You said you would like to go fishing in the Volga River before going into the hospital. If it would put Mrs. Foster's mind at ease, even though you prefer fishing alone, I'd go with you." Monte is a fly fisherman. They understand space and solitude, so I agreed. We waded that little river all day. More to my disappointment than his, Monte caught one little creek chub. I caught a couple of small mouthed bass and a rainbow trout. The water was too cold for much fish activity. We literally wore ourselves out wading, climbing up and down river banks and stumbling through the woods. We saw limestone bluffs, fossil formations, eagles, orioles, finches, deer, a ground hog, muskrat and lavender wildflowers. The woods were freshly greened. The afternoon sun brought the colors alive. We heard rippling water. At the end of the day, Monte turned to me, smiled and said, "Foster, this is the second best fishing day of my life. The best was when I caught a 19" trout in Montana. This is close."
Huh? One little creek chub. 10 hours of work? A good day? It was unspoken between us. He had taken a cancer patient fishing. His gift was giving me the chance to enjoy one of my favorite activities for the only time I can in 2011.
We have vowed to return in June 2012. The water will be warmer. However, sometimes the number of fish simply doesn't matter.
Foster
UPDATE NOTE FROM BOB
Friends,
A colleague and friend called me, "You said you would like to go fishing in the Volga River before going into the hospital. If it would put Mrs. Foster's mind at ease, even though you prefer fishing alone, I'd go with you." Monte is a fly fisherman. They understand space and solitude, so I agreed. We waded that little river all day. More to my disappointment than his, Monte caught one little creek chub. I caught a couple of small mouthed bass and a rainbow trout. The water was too cold for much fish activity. We literally wore ourselves out wading, climbing up and down river banks and stumbling through the woods. We saw limestone bluffs, fossil formations, eagles, orioles, finches, deer, a ground hog, muskrat and lavender wildflowers. The woods were freshly greened. The afternoon sun brought the colors alive. We heard rippling water. At the end of the day, Monte turned to me, smiled and said, "Foster, this is the second best fishing day of my life. The best was when I caught a 19" trout in Montana. This is close."
Huh? One little creek chub. 10 hours of work? A good day? It was unspoken between us. He had taken a cancer patient fishing. His gift was giving me the chance to enjoy one of my favorite activities for the only time I can in 2011.
We have vowed to return in June 2012. The water will be warmer. However, sometimes the number of fish simply doesn't matter.
Foster
See you down the trail.
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