On Fishing

One of my regrets is that I have never kept up with fishing as I might have.

I grew up fishing with my maternal grandfather, who was a mighty fisherman.  My earliest memories of fishing were in Montana, fishing for trout not too far from the cabin that I am staying at while we are there.

We fished for trout in Montana and for Bluegill and the occasional Bass in Old Home.  He would patiently take me out, teach me how to bait the hook and set the line (sinkers and bobbers for a young child), pull them in, and then clean them.

He taught me other things through fishing as well:  patience, a willingness to be alone and silent, of enduring until you reach the final goal.  Being responsible where you fish.  And fish as much as you need, but eat everything that you catch.

He tried to teach me how to fly fish but this was almost at the end of my fishing life and I never really took to it the way I did earlier. I drifted away from fishing after that as high school and then college overtook my time and interest.

I have never really been interested in fishing here in New Home; catfish and bass do not interest me all that much (and I am not really a fan of them, especially catfish unless blackened or fried).  But trout....trout is still something worth fishing for.

I have seen my friend Jambaloney's posts on his fishing over at Framboise Manor and makes me hungry again for those times of silence and patience and the possibility of fresh fish at the end of it.

Perhaps hungry enough to try and learn again.