The place looks so pristine and inviting, so constant and enduring, I sometimes feel unworthy of it, as if an intruder, a riparian peeping Tom who should just catch a quick glimpse and leave. There is nothing here but the real world of trees, clear water, rocks as old as time, flickering birds, dancing insects and rising trout. There is hardly ever any evidence of the world beyond the road where I park my car — the congested and trashy, confusing and crazy, coughing and fuming, fossil-burning, nattering, head-banging world of 24-7 news and non-stop noise. Not in Father’s Day Creek. There’s nothing like that here, only profound tranquility. In these moments of quiet awe, to pull out a cell phone to take a call or to read a tweet from the human world would be sacrilege.

— “Father’s Day Creek: Fly Fishing, Fatherhood and the Last Best Place on Earth”

One thought on “Nothing here but the real world

  1. At the relatively advanced age of 40, I bought a sailboat in 1989. I found the peace and tranquility you describe sailing on the Chesapeake Bay or anchoring for the night in an isolated creek or cove. I reveled in the joys of Mother Nature. I had to give up the sailing life a couple of years ago due to age and disability. Fortunately, I have many great memories to fall back on. While I still miss those days on the bay, the memories sustain me. Your writings remind me of those days, too. Yes, Mother Nature can help soothe the soul. Keep up the good work.

    Liked by 1 person

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