Hubby was the guide, the teacher, The Man. So comfortable in a setting of dusty trails, meadows, tall timber and the high mountain air, he has such a wealth of information to share. Fishing and life. After arriving at the lake, he rigged the guys up with the most successful recipe for catching a fish in a high mountain lake. Eager to learn, quick to catch on, the fishing was fun to watch and profitable.
Our dogs, Lucy and Jessie, enjoyed the fishing as much as these three young men, as they hopped from rock to rock and rock to log to follow and keep an eye on these young men. An occasional bark of encouragement made us jump and smile.
For these young men, the day might have been a day to awaken a life passion untapped; to experience the slow, summer day to the fullest or to say they had been there, done that. For us, the day might have been one of healing moments when the feeling of salve being slathered on the wounds of sorrow gave a measure of healing. Sweet memories of fishing with our boys and all that went into teaching them the art and love of fishing. Memories of daddy making sure they had a pole, correctly rigged. Memories of dad shaking his head when one boy was tangled in a tree while another complained of being hooked on a submerged log.
These days, fishing takes on a different flavor. Redefined. But enjoyable because of the wonderful memories we have of fishing and fun with boys.
As we drove down the dusty road, one of the guys said that we were okay to hang with. In fact, I believe he gave us a high compliment saying "I'd give you my shirt".
We sealed the day with an ice cream from Dotty's. Pretty sure we'd give them our shirt too. Thanks guys~
Looks like an amazing day!!!
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