AS I WANDERED #93 TROUT FISHING

Tags

Companions, friendship, philosophy, Reflection, Religion, Solitude

All of the fellows in the rail yard agreed that trout fishing on a small stream was much better than on a large river.

That was especially true for those who had a secret little stream somewhere up in the mountains.

Finding a secret stream and then trying not to brag about it is very hard. You wish to keep the stream for yourself but yet you would like to show a friend what a great spot you have discovered.

Finally you share it and a new type of friendship is discovered.

THE WOODLAND STREAM

 

 

~

©W. Tomosky♠

FISHERMEN: # 30 FREESTONE

Tags

fishing, fishing crowds, fishing hazards, fishing invasion, fishing manners, Solitude, trout

Fishing the Stillwater below the freestone rapids.

 

I chose not to write about this,

simply because these fellows,

said all that could be said,

about freestone fishing.

CLICK ON THE FISHERMAN

© Copy written for what I will never know.

FISHERMEN: # 29 VINDICATION

Tags

fishing, fishing crowds, fishing hazards, fishing invasion, fishing manners, Solitude, trout

 

 

He has come to his favorite part of the river.

He will fish here for some period of time.

Then, because the river is too deep,

to wade below the cliffs,

he will walk around,

the monolith,

and fish,

below.

However, before even a few minutes elapse,

a lazy fisherman comes from behind,

and crowds him from his favorite,

section of his favorite river,

as there is no longer,

any hermitic,

aura here.

And he prematurely must,

leave his favorite spot,

to skirt the big cliff,

and fish beyond,

the invader.

As he walks through the pines,

at the top of the cliff,

he hears a splash,

and spies this;

the invader,

scrambling,

out of the,

icy cold,

river.

He smiles to himself,

at the cruel scene,

and then he,

admonishes,

his own self;

admitting

his own,

inner,

joy.

© Copy written for what I will never know.

FISHERMEN: # 28 SOLITUDE

Tags

contemplation, fishing, old friends, old logs, old streams, Solitude, trout

 

 

He wades while he deftly fishes,

his mind always on the alert,

even though he knows,

he may not get a hit,

in this unusually,

large pool.

He anticipates the productive pool,

just below the silvery riffles,

that are only 100 yards,

yet 45 minutes away.

He carefully wades,

so as not to spook,

any errant fish,

that may be in,

this pool.

His anticipation builds,

as he nears the riffles,

however – a songbird,

a warbler he guesses,

calls to him.

He knows it calls to him,

because there is no one,

else on this stream,

this morning.

And he forgets the riffles,

and sits on the old log,

that rests on the side,

of the stream.

He lights his briar pipe,

full of good tobacco,

and enjoys nature.

The solitude brings back,

memories of a friend,

who once fished with,

him – on this stream.

They would not speak,

just fish and enjoy,

the others company.

Now he wonders – quietly,

if his friend can see him,

fishing in their stream,

and if he can see him,

does he enjoy the day?

The old friend suffers no longer,

from the daily pain of illness,

and not the envious type,

so the fisherman knows,

his friend must be,

enjoying the day,

along with him.

 

So now he is obligated,

to catch a big fish,

for and with his,

unforgotten,

friend.

 

© Copy written for what I will never know.

FISHERMEN: # 14 PARADISE

Tags

contemplation, fishing, forest, Solitude, stream

 

 

Every day that I go fishing,

I open a new book,

of interesting facts.

Maybe not book facts,

but rather life facts,

such as:

The white stripe,

on the bottom,

of a brookies fins,

Or the little bird,

that built a nest,

in the groove of,

the streamside cliff.

Or the fearsome growl,

in the oak tree,

above my head,

that was mother raccoon,

insisting that I make distance,

between myself and,

her four baby ‘coons,

in the tree.

Or the deer family who come,

to the stream every morning,

and every evening,

for their drink,

of clean clear water.

Or the log which rests,

halfway in and halfway out,

of the water,

the part in the water,

as solid as it was,

before it fell,

the part out of the water,

getting punky from,

the insects who live in it,

and the rain that dampens,

their home.

And sometimes,

when not fishing,

I visit the stream,

in the winter,

where the hemlocks,

heavy with fresh snow,

hang low over the water,

where the falls have frozen,

into patterns unexpected,

yet expected because,

they always freeze,

in one pattern,

or another.

The woods are quiet now,

most everyone is asleep,

for the winter,

except for the squirrels,

both red and grey,

and the partridge,

bursting away,

from me – the intruder.

It pleases me to see,

no other footprints,

in the snow,

as this is my place,

for solitude,

and contemplation.

© Copy written for what I will never know.

JOHN AUGUSTUS HOWS & FRIENDS; Post 17 “THE LOON”

Tags

Adirondack Mountains, Adirondacks, Alfred Billings Street, Bobbett & Hooper, Columbia University, Engraving, Forest Pictures, Forgotten People, John Augustus Hows, Legends and Lyrics, New York, Painting, Poetry, Raquette River, Saranac Lake, Solitude, waterfalls

 

                        

THIS IS THE END OF HOWS’ SKETCHES AND STREET’s POETRY.

THE NEXT SERIES ARE DEFINITELY NOT CALMING COLLAGES.

JOHN AUGUSTUS HOWS & FRIENDS; Post 16 “RAQUETTE RIVER”

Tags

Adirondack Mountains, Adirondacks, Alfred Billings Street, Bobbett & Hooper, Columbia University, Engraving, Forest Pictures, Forgotten People, John Augustus Hows, Legends and Lyrics, New York, Painting, Poetry, Raquette River, Saranac Lake, Solitude, waterfalls

 

                       

JOHN AUGUSTUS HOWS & FRIENDS; Post 15 “THE UPPER SARANAC”

Tags

Adirondack Mountains, Adirondacks, Alfred Billings Street, Bobbett & Hooper, Columbia University, Engraving, Forest Pictures, Forgotten People, John Augustus Hows, Legends and Lyrics, New York, Painting, Saranac Lake, Solitude, waterfalls

 

                       

JOHN AUGUSTUS HOWS & FRIENDS; Post 14 “THE BELL OWL”

Tags

Adirondack Mountains, Adirondacks, Alfred Billings Street, Bobbett & Hooper, Columbia University, Engraving, Forest Pictures, Forgotten People, John Augustus Hows, Legends and Lyrics, New York, Painting, Saranac Lake, Solitude, waterfalls

 

                       

JOHN AUGUSTUS HOWS & FRIENDS; Post 13 “MY CANOE”

Tags

Adirondack Mountains, Adirondacks, Alfred Billings Street, Bobbett & Hooper, Columbia University, Engraving, Forest Pictures, Forgotten People, John Augustus Hows, Legends and Lyrics, New York, Painting, Saranac Lake, Solitude, waterfalls