gunnurse
Senior Member
I am lying in bed in a cabin by the Little Pigeon River. I looked up and saw the tiny mayflies swarming the light. They look like about a size 14 or 16 of what I will call a pale evening dun. Tiny yellow things with their tails glistening in the harsh light. I think to their beginnings years ago as eggs laid by their ancestors. They have survived to maturity, and against all odds have hatched. Hatched as eggs, to nymphs to maturity. Hatched to the evening of magic where they live, mate, and die- only to repeat the whole circle. I am sad that their apex will be spent in this cabin. What a waste.
I think of NCH tying their twins. I think of the Smoky Mountain trout enjoying the bounty of their sacrifice to continue their lineage. I think of the times when I fished my offerings to the trout before my back injury that ended my chase.
Guys- don’t take one day for granted. Don’t waste one day that avails itself to enjoy the chase. If you have done all that you can to enjoy the day, then rest well. If you haven’t, PLEASE do all you can to make tomorrow count. Don’t be the mayfly swarming the light with no past to remember.
I think of NCH tying their twins. I think of the Smoky Mountain trout enjoying the bounty of their sacrifice to continue their lineage. I think of the times when I fished my offerings to the trout before my back injury that ended my chase.
Guys- don’t take one day for granted. Don’t waste one day that avails itself to enjoy the chase. If you have done all that you can to enjoy the day, then rest well. If you haven’t, PLEASE do all you can to make tomorrow count. Don’t be the mayfly swarming the light with no past to remember.