"Dads Native"

Our piece of timber isn't much when you take into account what surrounds it. 10 acres surrounded by hundreds but it is my place to go when I need to think about things. What was once close to a hundred and fifty acres owned by my great grandfather, now is reduced to just a thin strip owned by me. The best part of that entire tract though is the little spring that starts its journey from under a rock during a dry season. During the spring of the year though, if you walk up stream you can see where it flows out from the roots of the oak tree. My grandfather always had a tin cup hanging on the tree branch next to the spring to fill with water to quench our thirst when we would be cutting wood for the winter. For some reason it disappeared one year and Dad replaced it with a bottle that he put next to a rock. And there it stayed for us to use. As time passed by, the property was subdivided and sold off but the spring was always meant to stay in our family. So many memories go through my mind when I take walks there - past the little stone markers where our pets have been buried, beyond the oak that Dad got stuck in the neighboring tree when he cut it down (it's still leaning there), and on to the spring where I sit and figure out ways to solve life's problems.


My father loved to fish for native trout and I can remember him wondering in conversations we would have about whether or not they were present downstream of our little spring. Time and years passed by and we never followed up on our ideas of whether or not our water had created a haven for those little brookies he loved to fish for. Dad passed on and I aged and I never returned to our wonderings about our thoughts.


Then this past week, it hit me that I needed to return to our conversations and give it a try. I couldn't believe that so much time had passed by in my life and I had never explored this idea. If nothing else - the walk and the searching would do me good because work and life in general had created within me something I didn't like.


So this morning I got up early, packed my little 3 weight, a box of nymphs and off I went. What I found was something I had forgotten about ... a clear memory of my father wondering out loud if they were there.



Dad....... this day was for you. I missed you today buddy.



Oh - and one more thing I gotta tell you Dad..... We were right.

thanks for the smile!
there's many of small creeks i've thought about exploring that my grandpa and i have hunted near and i too always wondered.......

I'm still getting chills. I miss my dad too. Caught lots of brookies with him. Thank you!

VERY COOL....

Really good story Buddy. I hope that one day i could try that little crick fishing with you.

Glad you found what you needed to find , in all aspects of the journey.

Nicely done . . .

Steely, thanks for sharing that, it was a great read and it reminded me not to take my father or my sons for granted!