Fishing

This weekend we went fishing on a small lake outside of Kalispell, Montana, just Peter, Marc and I. The other two boys had to work. Typically we choose a driftboat on a river to cast our fly rods from, but they are running high and muddy this year in western Montana, so we found a nearby lake instead. The mosquitoes were thick, hungry and ready to bite outside of our car, but as soon as we hit the water they stopped and the fish started and kept us busy for quite a few hours. Always a friendly competition in our family in which we are required to practice skill and patience. It follows this general pattern: Cast, wait, wait, cast again and again, wait some more, set the hook if you're lucky, eyeball length and weight, release and keep track. Do I have to say who won? (Not me....)

What a peaceful, billowy cloud and blue sky day. A bit breezy and the perfect temperature. So much quiet broken only by the cast of a rod, the creak of an oar, water lapping against the boat, the occasional  fish surfacing and the haunting calls of the loon on the lake.

I appreciate and know the value of this time. We've fished together since the boys were pretty young. Soaking in the simplicity of our surroundings. Focusing on the spot where the line meets the water. Enjoying each others presence. Talking or not.