Little Things

My eyes are not what they used to be. I need glasses for everything. It is occasionally frustrating and always humbling. It is getting harder and harder to see little things.

I know I am no longer a young man but neither am an old man. My profession reminds me that I am over the hill because I’ve been in uniform longer that 75 percent of the folks I serve with have been alive. There are no big signs just little things. The decks seem harder and the ladders steeper. It is the same in the water. The rocks are slicker and the current faster. Not too slick or too fast but little by little I notice.

I love sharing the sport of fly fishing. I started young and was allowed to develop unfettered by convention. Now, I’m set in my ways and happy to fish how I want to fish. It’s not about gear or pictures, it’s about fish and the wild places they live. I have an affinity for wild native fish. I am as happy catching six inch brook trout as I am catching 15 pound queenfish because I enjoy the little things: choosing a fly, reading the water, the cast, the thrill of the take, the smell of the sea, feeling the energy of the fish, hearing the water, admiring the color of the fish be it bright or subtle, and the company I am with. No matter where I am fishing or what I am fishing for, the who is far more important that the what, when, where or how. Even when I am alone, I am not. I have birds, bugs, and other critters all around me. I take it all in enjoying every little aspect of whatever environment I’m in.

Wild native brook trout.

By taking delight in all the little things, I can brush off any hint of disappointment at losing a fish or discouragement fueled by a slow day. I don’t hop rocks like I used to but I can still bushwack the blue lines. I feel the aches and pains of a days fishing a tad more than I did a decade ago. However, I delight in the fact that I can go up into the high country alone. I am thrilled that with a bit of magnification I can tie a size 22 fly and attach it to my tippet. Little things make all the difference.

Fishing is about hope and there is always joy in hope. Joy leads to wonderment and a happy cycle begins to envelop me when I pay attention to the little things. I don’t need my glasses to see that.