Babbling Secrets Await Me
The days I spend on the river are my favorite time. Possibly, I used the word river too plainly. I'm sure more than half of you held a vision of a muddy clog of water that you can smell before you can see. A body of water you would not dip your big toe into.
However, that is not the case here. My River is as clear as a drop of rain. The river is winding moving in and out of the Montana - Canadian territories tickling the boarders that lie between. You can hear her babbling, softly reviling her secrets to those that will listen. Once your feet catch up, to your senses the sight of her is breath taking. The aroma of the water is clean and fresh, it makes sweet the air as it lingers with the sent of pine and honey suckle, that bids you welcome.
Once you park your car and pack your mule, life is no longer dictated by a clock, cell phones or deadlines. It is, time itself that moves the day, coupled with Mother Nature and the drive to see around the next bend. Her charm demands you admire her and her beauty requires you gaze upon her. Once your feet touch her banks your feelings tell you, you are the first. Though a sign two miles back counters that.
The day draws to a perfect close as lazily I lay on my side watching a Brown Trout smoke over the open fire. Keeping perfect time with the ascending smoke from my camp, the moon drifts up the ridge, till it's spiked by the great pine I lie beneath. I pick clean the bones of my handy work and drift asleep to the sound of the wind that lives among these trees. The aroma of the forest fills my nostrils. The song of the night is my moonlit sonata. I dreamed of animated creatures dancing at my feet, and search my thoughts for a way to remain in this pleasant state.
Day broke with a morning song from a chattering squirrel and a bugling elk. I was ready to face the river and peer around the next bend. Ever listening to her secrets as I hear them proclaimed. I face the day and the river, with hopes of another mild, sun filled day. Long before I wet my line, the fish allures me with his grace and fluid motion, bringing me ever closer to the water's edge. I take in the moment and wonder how modern man could overlook this place and admire God's Cathedral. Offering Him a prayer and a hymn that I hum under my breath. I study my hat and carefully decide what my first strike will be with. Once selected, he who had allured me from my natural setting, I hoped to allure in turn.