big wind and thunderstorms coming in from the Atlantic yesterday pushed back the Mediterranean front back to sea. as with humans the struggle is constant, stubborn, relentless but nature’s battlegrounds, at least around here, leave a certain kind of drama that’s beautiful, peaceful and clean but you know… it’s just a calm interlude until the next round.
and back to paying more attention to what’s behind me at the lake instead of in front.
i guess old habits are hard to break specially when you’re not trying to break them.
the picture will paint itself.
sometimes forgetting that it’s often the guys in back who tell the story.
a happy little chub slurping down a mid-afternoon snack.
one of the slurpees ? doubt it but it’s still a fly.
a well-meaning friend asked me if this was still a fly fishing blog.
here you go.