Home Waters

The home waters of any fisherman hold dear memories. Sometimes the memory is more valued than the experience. Dreams can be reborn, a stirred soul can be at ease.I find solace in the vivid images that dance in the dark corners of my mind. My memory illuminating my cerebral dance floor bringing these images into the spotlight.

Home water Smallmouth.

A small frog found streamside brought a welcomed diversion. He was prismatic in various shades of greens and olives.

Ever the steward of nature, Garett made sure our diversion was not to much of an intrusion on our new friend. Back you go beautiful frog ( WINK...WINK...)!

As the light in the sky began to fade leaving gentle crimsons hues, it was difficult to imagine where the cloud crests were emanating from. How far away were we? Close enough to see the beams pierce through the dusk and play about on top of leaves of corn.

I can not define true friendship in words. I believe the look on our faces sums it up. Only an outdoors-man would have a grin after traipsing miles through a chin high field of corn to find their way home.