Went out awhile yesterday morning. My elbow has been afflicted with a severe bout of tendonitis lately that has had me drinking coffee left-handed and saying unpleasant words every time I try to pick up something with my right arm. So no heavy-duty fishing, but I did want to get out awhile.
Pulled up at a trailhead in the Smokies right at daylight. It was cloudy, foggy, and drizzly. Walking up the trail, water dripped from the trees overhead, and I was overwhelmed with all the life that thrives on the moisture that constantly saturates this dark, always-damp forest.
Giant slugs 4"-5" long were crawling on the trees:
Mosses and huge liverworts are growing everywhere:
Cinnabar chanterelles were sprinkled through the duff on the forest floor:
Giant 6" millipedes the size of your thumb that look like something from a tropical rain forest and smell like maraschino cherries:
Evening primrose flowers are still open in the foggy half-light:
Butterflies are fluttering everywhere:
Even butterflies on butterflies:
The creek is high from the overnight rain, and a bit off-color, but just right for nymph fishing:
At streamside, curious patterns of root, rock, moss, and lichen:
How many years does it take a handful of pebbles to wear out a circular hole 4" deep in a creek boulder? Hundreds? Thousands? Millions?
Pulled up at a trailhead in the Smokies right at daylight. It was cloudy, foggy, and drizzly. Walking up the trail, water dripped from the trees overhead, and I was overwhelmed with all the life that thrives on the moisture that constantly saturates this dark, always-damp forest.
Giant slugs 4"-5" long were crawling on the trees:
Mosses and huge liverworts are growing everywhere:
Cinnabar chanterelles were sprinkled through the duff on the forest floor:
Giant 6" millipedes the size of your thumb that look like something from a tropical rain forest and smell like maraschino cherries:
Evening primrose flowers are still open in the foggy half-light:
Butterflies are fluttering everywhere:
Even butterflies on butterflies:
The creek is high from the overnight rain, and a bit off-color, but just right for nymph fishing:
At streamside, curious patterns of root, rock, moss, and lichen:
How many years does it take a handful of pebbles to wear out a circular hole 4" deep in a creek boulder? Hundreds? Thousands? Millions?
