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Somethin' is not right. When ya reach my age ya know when
somethin' ain't right. And somethin' ain't right for sure. Whatever it is has been
creepin' up on me, ya know? Think it started after the holidays. Yea, sometime
around January, middle of. Been fightin' it off since then, 'bout eight-ten
weeks. Think I might be losin' the battle. Need to do somethin".
First thing, count my blessin's, got lots of 'em.
Been able to fish through the winter, even tried out some new
waters. Started to tie flies again after several years away from the vise. Vice?
Buddies who are willin' to share my company and their flies. But can ya ever really
have enough of the good things? Two dawgs, three kids, great wife, and breadkfast
at Meemies's on Saturday mornin's. And all my own body parts. Yep, lotsa
blessin's.
But somethin' just ain't right, ya know?
Okay, gotta do somethin' about it, whatever "it" is, hope it
is not the Black Dog catchin' up to me. Tried over the counter stuff, even
self-medicated myself with golden elixir, still feel the same, mebbe worse. Took
dawgs for a walk, they were more ready than I was, but supposed to good for ya,
walkin', ya know. Can't move left foot now, but dawgs are happy.
Best I've felt was the other day. Cleaned flyboxes, steamed
flies, cleaned all my flylines, cleaned and oiled reels, gave the rods the once
over; even went through vest. Found some interestin' stuff - sandwiches, cheese,
golden elixir, Swisher Sweet. All were in good condition and good; specially the
Swisher. Even washed the vest, and we all know what that means. Quite a day. Last
time I felt really good.
The phone call came today. Buddy said he knew just what I
needed. Wife agreed with him, even packed lunch, opened door, peck on the cheek,
waved good-bye . . ."Hope ya feel better?"
An early spring day, in the truck, on the way. Been a long
time, months, last year, ya know? The mountain snows are gone, trees are budding
and the birds are back. Feeder streams are runnin' full and clear through the
laurel and rhododendron. Others, too, are in the Valley, familiar faces, all
smilin', tip of the hat, and a wave."
"How's it look?"
"Fantastic!"
Just seein' our home waters lookin' so good makes us both feel
better. Park the truck, grab the gear, hit the black path, cross the trestle, through
the Paddy Mountain tunnel, to the shack . . .
"Hello old friend! Sorry we've been away so long."
The door is opened, the smell. . .beginnin' to feel much
better. A fire to take the chill off, update the calendar, wind the clocks, hang
out old glory and the sign, raise a glass. And ready the gear - rods, waders,
shoes, wading sticks.
"Where we going'?"
"Jack's Rock?"
"Sounds good!"
The day a stream did the trick. Trout on the rise, just where
we left them last fall. The ospreys and the canadians. Wading wild trout waters,
casting to brown trout that are sipping Grannoms, and rememberin'. And when we left
the way we came, the peepers. Right where we found them last spring.
Yep, feelin' much better, thank ya!
I've "Takin' the Cure." ~ JZ
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