Part Two hundred-nine
By Johnny (aka Hillfisher), Texas
Archive of Panfish
We all have a "My Place," whether it be a favorite fishing
hole, that overly comfortable lounge chair in the den or
even some park bench that is in just the right place to
sit relax and enjoy a sunrise or sunset. "My Place" is
that place we frequent regularly to regenerate our souls,
regain sanity and escape the everyday pressures brought
on by being responsible adults.
My place is just up the block, a small park that no one ever
seems to use.
It has Dove Creek flowing through it and some industrious
beavers have built a fair sized pond. It's spring fed,
never goes dry and provides year round fishing within a
5-minute walk. The park is quite small only a couple of
acres with deep soggy grass and large old stately native
pecan trees along side graceful sweeping willows.
Fishing is easy here and the bream are very willing. Although
there are no really big ones they are of fair size and on a
5wt or less, quite fun. The bass seem to be around the 2-pound
range or smaller and can be a bit of a challenge to get on a fly.
Whenever I seem to be having a bad day, this place is my medicine.
Sometimes before going to work, a quick walk and a few fish later,
puts me into a better frame of mind to meet the challenges
presented at work.
It's here I come for solitude and regain the value of my soul.
I just lay back and listen to the wind sigh through the trees,
the cicadas singing their cadence, announcing the true arrival
of summer. Sitting back and watching the damselflies flitter
back and forth with the ever-eager bream hitting the surface
trying in earnest to catch one. Counting the rises as one would
count the stars on a clear summer night, slowly the pressures
of the day dissolve away and are replaced with calmness and a
sense of well being. I am now in the midst of nature in her
full glory, a concert of sight, sound, smell and motion. Every
sense attuned and readjusted for what the human spirit was
really intended for.
Some days are just spent walking along the creek to collect
mussle shells. Some get quite large and find a place among
all the other "stuff" I collect from the area. Sage oranges,
a weird shaped piece of wood and yet another nice piece of
black or blood flint. All these things come from "My Place."
A place of endless discoveries, wonderment, and a place to be 'me.'
Do you have a "My Place?" You should.
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