Grateful

I'm back. My cataract surgeries are over and almost 100% successful. At the moment I have 20/25 distance vision, and reading glasses do very well for reading and fly tying and tying knots on the water. And spending time on the computer; I will be dropping posts here again on a somewhat regular basis. I have a trip planned for the Henry's Fork for ten days at the beginning of September but I think I'll take my computer for some posts direct from Last Chance.

Meanwhile I tested my restored vision in fishing mode as soon as I could get to the lake. Here are some photos of those recent trips to Yellowwood. She's bright and beautiful in all her late summer garb, and I was able to change flies whenever I wanted to. Then the last time I was there I was able to see the stars in all their glory. I even caught a Perseid meteor over the south end of the lake. I am grateful.

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"Burn" by Janice N. Harrington

"Prairie Meadows Burning" George Catlin 1832

The wind then, through seams of bluestem,

or switchgrass swayed by a coyote’s passing. 

Where the fabric gapes, Barthes said,

lies the sensual. A prairie cut 

by winding seeps, or winds or shearing wings.

Mare’s tails, mackerels, cirrus, 

distance dispersed as light. Under a buzzard’s bank

and spiral the prairie folds and unfolds. 

Here between the stands of bluestem, I am interruption.

I rake my fingers over culms and panicles. 

Here seeds burr into my sleeves, spur each hem.

In a prairie, I am chance. I am rupture. The wind— 

thief, ruffian, quick-fingered sky, snatches a kink

of my hair. The broken nap falls, wound round 

like a prairie snake, a coil of barbed wire, a snare

for the unwary. In the fall, volunteer naturalists 

will wrench invading roots and scour grassy densities

with fire. Wick, knot, gnarl, my kindled hair 

will flare, burn, soften into ash, ash that will settle,

sieve through soil, compost for roots to suck 

and worms to cast out, out into the loess that raises

redtop, turkeyfoot, sideoats grama, 

and all the darkened progenies of grass

that reach and strive and shape dissent from light. 

S. C. O. F. Summer Issue 2018

Don't miss it. Go HERE.

This Summer Has Been a Blur

I'm going to take a break from the blog for awhile.There might be a few of you who actually check in here once in awhile and you might think I've already been on a break. You would be right, as this summer has been a blur of family activities. Our sixth grandchild was born in June and my mother's funeral was this month. To top it all off I've developed cataracts in both eyes, the fast-acting kind that come on in a month or two. By now everything is a blur. I am working on this post with the aid of a magnifying glass and it is a pain in the ass. I will have surgery beginning on the 30th and will be enjoying 20/20 vision soon after that,

I have been able to fish, but the driving is getting more difficult, and as for tying on flies, forget about it. I finally tied on a swivel clip at home under a magnifying lense and was able to change flies more easily with that setup.

Here are photos from four trips to Yellowwood I made last week. See you in awhile, pun intended.

Sunday

Tuesday

Thursday

Friday

A Letter To Congress

Fireworks Pickup Style.

The Mission, No, 10

 Get it HERE.