There is a time for
everything and a season for every activity under heaven.” Ecclesiastes 3:1
“Lord, it is time, thy
summer was very big”. Rilke .
December 9th,
2012- I awaken to 4 inches of snow on my deck and it is still
snowing. A beautiful white world gradually lightens up as morning tries to
dawn. Temperature: Ten degrees. Finally, an ending to what has felt like a
perpetual summer of warm (and often hot) weather. A summer of fires, drought,
and skinny waters. Finally, snow.
For me, it is time for an ending, the ending of the fly
fishing season. Oh, I know I can still fish and do quite well in the tail
waters. But, there is some thing that feels appropriate to hang up the rod and
do other things. “Lord, it is time.” It is time to do other things. I can ski
on the snow that will refill our rivers. Time to tie flies and read poetry by
the wood stove. A time to turn inward.
I like beginnings and endings and the time in-between. This
is a time to give fly fishing a rest.
This is a time for healing and revival. And perhaps most of all, a time
of rest and recovery for the fish in our quality tail waters such as below
Cheesman, Eleven Mile, and Pueblo
reservoirs that have endured a tremendous amount of fishing pressure. “Lord, it is time, thy summer was very big”.
If there is an ending then there can be a new beginning. There
is something special about the ritual of “opening day” of trout fishing. I grew
up back east where there was an opening day.
The first day of trout fishing was a big event that signified the ending
of winter and the coming of spring. For
the most part in Colorado we
really do not have an opening day of trout fishing, (with the exception of a
few places such Spinney Mountain Reservoir).
But I can still create my own ritual that is based on my own sense of
time, seasons and events. This morning’s snowfall which has been the most substantial
drop of snow so far and the coldest temperatures is a good ending point for me.
And after a time of rest,
I look forward “with boldness” to opening day even if I do not know when
that will be.
For now, it is the time of winter. “Ah there is winter… the earth’s mysterious turning-within. Where
around the dead in the pure receding of sap, boldness is gathered, the boldness
of future spring times.” (Rilke)
Finally, if we learn to give the fish a rest, they too will
return with a new boldness. Let us help one another give the fish this season
of rest. Lord, we know it is time.
In this post you describe a heartfelt and somewhat poignant time when change is inevitable. "...there is some thing that feels appropriate to hang up the rod and do other things. “Lord, it is time.”..." And yet there are so many other interests you can and do pursue: reading by the fire, skiing, self-reflection, healing etc. All wonderful options. Yet, [I sense] there is just the slightest undercurrent of melancholy since opening day is at least several months in the future.
ReplyDeleteI smile at this having had the benefit of reading "in the future" [Jan 26, 2013]. You only lasted a month. The "lure" was strong, your passion inflamed, and voila, you are back on the river.
I find this endearing somehow. You are the antithesis of the person you describe in your Jan 20, 2012 post. You DO get away. Viva la passion!
-L
Well, I was "found out". When I wrote that piece on "It is time: Beginnings and Endings", and then when I wrote about fishing the Ark a month later, I did kind of wonder if anyone would notice the short break time. Yet, even a break of a month or so was significant for me. December and and early January have the "darkest and shortest" days so it really is a time when I kind of "hibernate". I also kind of "turn the corner", in late January when the days slowly start getting longer. But my melancholy is quite significant in the month of December and is good "ending" month for me.
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