Distant Hatch

I’ve distanced myself from my fly rod and reel lately, for reasons I can't quite pinpoint. It has been about a year since I last laid out a cast.

The passion hasn't faded, but life has simply gotten crazy. The noise of everyday routines has consumed me. Yet through all the busyness, I still find myself craving that quiet, cold stream buried deep off the trail in the woods.

I miss the sound of water trickling through tall pines, working up gains in elevation and dropping down into hidden valleys. I miss watching water flow steadily over fallen timber, worn rocks, and ancient boulders far older than I am. Rocks blanketed in green moss, cemented in place and unturned for years.

Maybe life has felt so loud lately because I haven't let that quiet creek silence the noise in a while.

I think it's finally time to dust off the rod and reel.