Wednesday, November 21, 2012

Thanksgiving and a great year of fishing.

I am not sure if it's a function of aging, maturity, sentimentality or a bit of each as I find myself taking stock of what I am thankful for this past year. It would be very easy to be somewhat cliche and state the obvious, being thankful for my family, health and good friends however, given the state of, well, everything, these last few years, my thanks are much more direct.

I am fortunate to have my job, in a time when way to many people are unemployed or under-employed.   I appreciate the fact that my children want for nothing. I don't mean this is lavish or spoiled sense rather, if they have a need, we are able to provide for that need. Each night, after putting them to bed, I walk out of their rooms thankful for flannel sheets and heating oil as they drift into slumber. I am thankful that some of my most difficult decisions in 2012 have been trying to decide what water to fish or which rods to take out on any given trip to the water. I have not been faced with the dilemma of which bill gets paid this month and which one goes past due.

I have had the good fortune to love and be loved, unconditionally, by my wife, a very tolerant women, 2 amazing young sons and 2 ridiculously crazy labradors.

I am thankful for the amazing places that I fished in 2012. The Farmington, Housatonic, Delaware, Battenkill, Umbagog, Androscoggin. Single words, places that I am grateful to have the opportunity to visit.
A wild Battenkill brown
This year also provided an opportunity to fish with a good friend who, sadly, I do not get to hang out with nearly enough these days. I keep telling him and his wife that Connecticut isn't really much different than New Hampshire and there are 2 houses in my neighborhood, for sale, that they would love. Strangely, they aren't buying what I'm selling. Having spent almost 10 years living in New Hampshire, I can't say as I blame them.

I also spent a little more time on the water with my boys, hoping that the bug will bite them as it has me. Who knew the pride and joy that you could feel watching your boys hook and land fish on their own.

Bear's Farmy brown
I am thankful for some time spent alone, on the water. Alone without a single thought passing through my semi-cluttered head. Alone with only the sound of rushing water and the occasional curse word that resulted from a missed take.

Umbagog sunset
As this holiday approaches, take a moment to sit back and consider what you are truly thankful for and how fortunate we really are each day. To those of you who come across this post, I wish you all a Happy Thanksgiving and, should you sneak out and fish this weekend, tightlines!

Sunday, November 18, 2012

Missing in Action

Not quite a month ago, I sat and typed an entry to the blog. While not fishing related, I did not envision this entry being the last entry that would appear for almost 30 days. Sadly, I have not done any fishing over this same period of time and it's amazing how life gets moving and you have a tough time finding the opportunity to do things you enjoy.

In the midst of all the normal activities that take place in one's life, somewhere along the line, I managed to break my leg. The initial prognosis, form the ER docs, was not good and I was starting to come to grips with the possibility of spending the next 3 months in a cast. Fortunately, my visit to the Orthopedic specialist softened my worry and the official diagnosis was much less severe. While still having broken a bone, I was lucky enough to have not broken the weight bearing bone, the tibia. Rather, I have a break of the fibula, at the top, by the knee.

Most of the discomfort comes from the connective tissue that aids with stabilizing the knee. I guess this mechanism was not made to bear the weight of multiple pieces of sheet rock. So when the secondary diagnosis was made, I nearly leapt of the table as I was told that no cast would be needed and I would be able to wean myself from the crutches over the next 10 days or so. The break will require somewhere in the neighborhood of 5 to 6 weeks for initial healing - that I can deal with. In the meantime, I get my fill reading stories of other anglers pursuit of chrome on distant waters, enjoying images of a freshly cooked venison from a recent hunt and looking at pictures of local browns caught by a friend while roll casting from the banks. Hmmmm, roll casting from the banks...I think I see some possibilities brewing.