sometimes it happens in a pub, sometimes it happens streamside. i guess it could happen anywhere where two or more anglers might chat but regardless, at some point in our fishing lives we’ve all heard the “who’s the best fisher in your opinion?” question.
my answer is invariably, this guy. he’s not a competition angler, isn’t Orvis nor Anyone endorsed, in fact he’s not in the least bit interested in praises nor endorsements. i like that.
i’ll go mine.
if we’re lucky we’ll both get lost and meet somewhere in between.
are way overated but gosh, this is such a beautiful creature…
keeps the Heatwave Blues away.
“The impressionist painters repudiated both the precise academic style, emotional concerns and their interest in objective representation, especially of landscape, was influenced by early photography”
and my own influences in photography come from the very same painters that where influenced by photography combined with a healthy dose of staring at water:
circles, continuations and swirly things…
/ˈbjʊər/ | muʃ |
that’s the literal translation in french for butterfly but that doesn’t go too well with the little frenchie:
the stream-side beauty insists on papillon.
no goals, no plans.
going where the winds take me.
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.