There is a very intriguing article on a thriving small town in the November 2017 issue of the New Yorker- I heartily encourage you to read the whole thing- what really snagged my attention, though, was this passage:
If you belonged to a church and you had a crisis, church members would likely help you out. If you moved to a city, though, you saw a level of need that could not be addressed by church groups alone.
Why is it if cosmopolitan people are more trusting of strangers as the article posits that there isn’t enough close face to face help for people to get what they need?
From immature red tail hawks in a hedgerow to immature white tail deer in a meadow, there has always been something that is breathtakingly beautiful on the rides. I’m happy my wife talked me into it- so therapeutic. I also really like jumping, because I could never jump high or long, even when I was in my best shape- what a thrill!
I started off my day with a green Drake mayfly on my desk, so with this auspicious sign of maybe a dry fly day I resolved to set out
Well, sure enough, I started with a smaller soft hackle instead of the bigger winged patterns I’ve been using, and I had more success. The brownie had a very different pattern and colouration than the last one I caught. The brookie had marvellous colours.
I had my new favourite fly fishing shirt- an Orvis number my brother found for me at a second hand shop- on my back
You can see the sage smile of our temple dog here- looks to be rubbing off on my brother too
Well, can you see the big head and claws of the turtle?
I didn’t bring as many fish to hand this time- probably should have switched to small soft hackles because the water is lower and clearer than earlier in the season. Still, I stuck to the bigger winged wets that were working well when the water was higher, though. I lost a decent size brook trout, but landed this little jewel of a brown trout.
I also saw quite a few jewelwing damselflies along the shore
Butterflies and butterfly weed too
I went back to my favourite trout stream close to home. I snuck out after work since the weather was fresh and sunny.
I tied on the royal coachman I put together on my bench this winter and quickly met this pretty little brookie
I stumbled upstream upon the heart of the creek, a wonderful ait- the brush around the banks of this section is too thick, and the grass too high, and the log jams too big either way to access it later in the season. I rolled a cast and mended right between the confluence and brought to hand the biggest brown trout I’ve had to hand- what a thrill with my short three weight rushing to the thrum and shake of life in the strong current!
Sauntering farther upstream, I saw a red trillium and then heard that auspicious rattling sound just before I saw the kingfisher fly overhead, and that’s when I turned for home
All stories are biography and all pictures are portrait – they tell you something about people and eventually they all fully return to the Creator
Bishop Curry’s address with a focus on fire reminded me that George Macdonald insisted over and over again that our God is a consuming fire: we digest these stories, pictures, little biographies and these sustain life until ultimately consumed into the mystery of a larger, greater purpose for life