March Birthdays

For the past month, I've tried to work in a weekend trip to fish one of the blue ribbon trout streams in Missouri. I had a chance back in Feb. but thought it might not be a good idea to leave a Jayhawk blue pickup with DG Kansas tags parked along lonely rural Missouri roads--at least until passions cooled a bit. Finally, this past weekend an opportunity appeared. Saturday was my birthday and I thought that solitude along an Ozark stream on a beautiful spring day was probably the best remedy for the birthday blues.

Many folks have described aging as an accelerating perception of the passage of time. That is of course true enough for me but at my age, birthdays, are about remembering and bittersweet. What can really knock me into a state of melancholy is the remembrance of all those, family and dear friends, no longer here--the curse of being a survivor.

Saturday dawned a perfect spring morning: temperatures in the high 40's, light wind and clear sky. As I made my way south through the hills I occasionally caught the whiff of burning hardwoods--from smokers cranked up at various rural homes and from prescribed burnings throughout the national forest. The spring wildflowers were starting to bloom.






I arrived at my destination about 10:00 and paused to savor the fact that my car was the only one in the parking lot. I would have the entire stream to myself. I put on my new non-felt boots and headed downstream for about a mile and a half to water I had not fished before, deep in thought but enjoying the day.



Of course, this is why I go fishing. As soon as I get to the river and start fishing all the internal voices and words simply disappear. Conscious thought takes a back seat to non-verbal thought as the river, the environment and the act of trying to catch a fish take over. Saturday was a great day fishing--conscious thought seldom intruded on the experience and at the end of the day I was refreshed. Naturally, with being so spaced out, I neglected to take many photos. I get a little antsy with wild trout trying to get them back in the water in a hurry. I apologize.



Eventually, by late afternoon, I finally ran into some other fisherfolks. I decided I had had my share and regretfully packed up trying to savor the last of the wondrous day.


The next day was my youngest granddaughters 4th birthday. Those birthdays between 4 and 8 are very special birthdays. What great fun. The contrast between our two birthday's and our perceptions of these special days is profound. She was beyond excited with all her family and cousins to play with and share her day. Of course, as the party wound down she was tired and suddenly realized that everyone was leaving. And then, despite the wonderful time, she cried.


Just like her grandpa did on his birthday.

BW