Saturday, October 24, 2009
The grey backdrop of an overcast sky could be seen through the canopy of hardwoods and blooming dogwood trees, gently swaying back and forth in a late morning breeze that hurried the waters along on their journey downstream. It was late spring, so white petals were whirly-birding downward, some landing on the banks while others joined the rushing waters. A petal drifted downward, first seirling to one side, heading towards an exposed root that served as a shelter for crayfish in a calm nook of the bend, only to turn at the last second and drop lightly into a vein of water that hugged the edge of a jutting, polished rock. The leaflette rotated in the water, then straightened as it shot the rapid water running the side of the rock. As it shot past, a brook trout adjusted its meander ever so slightly, as though to avoid the petal as it may have been a fisher's lure. The fish swam against the stream, waiting there for an unsuspecting fly to pass on the waters, as it had for so many years before, and will continue on for years to come.