Suddenly finding myself unemployed after many years of being out in the workforce has its drawbacks;  then again, it has been a blessing in disguise.   Like most Americans,  life was full of stress, too many activities, and too little time to fit in everything I wanted to do.   Now I find myself with a lot of time on my hands - the birds have all flown the nest, there's no traffic to fight, no particular schedule to have to adhere to, no rush to get anything done, no deadlines to meet.   "How boring", you say?   Quite the opposite.   I have rediscovered fishing and the lost art of simple relaxation.

   I'm not a gung-ho, 'catch-the-big-one or the day's a waste' type of fisherman.   Sure, if I catch a nice one, he'll go home with me & most likely be dinner and the small ones get let go to grow into the dinner-size ones.  But the important thing to me is to just relax and enjoy the day.  For instance,  just a few days ago --

   A perfect early morning,  the sun barely up and playing hide-and-seek with the clouds,  warm yet with just enough coolness in the air to remind that Fall is just around the corner, and I'm sitting on the river bank at one of my favorite fishing holes.   The raucus squawk of a waterbird is the only sound that shatters the otherwise total silence.  As I glance around,  my imagination suddenly takes flight.

   The riverbank is lined with old cypress, and in the gnarls and bumps of those trees I spot the grinning faces of wood nymphs & sprites, the guardians of these waters.  My mind begins a conversation with these little imps.  The branches that hang out over the water are festooned with many unfortunate fishermen's various- colored lines and brightly-hued corks & bobbers of every description, like the beginnings of some wildly-decorated Christmas tree.   Each of these things has its own tale to tell, the imps whisper to me;  each line has behind it a lesson learned.   Some of the lines have taught patience to a father teaching his young one to cast,  some have taught the fisherman to slow down & pay attention;  and some are there simply because the sprites were feeling mischievous.  

   I cast, and a branch that wasn't there a few seconds ago gently snags my line.  "Oh, no, my little freind" , I tell the nymph laughingly as I flip my rod.   The line drifts down.   As I gather my equipment and turn to leave,  I know I will be welcome here again.   My son asks later what I've been doing and I tell him, "Just fishing."