Like the imperfect sentence that almost conveys an elusive bit of truth, this particular run can’t be left alone. Something rare and universal is lingering there, just beyond the periphery, so you turn to it again, and again, and again, finding it just gone each time… maddening.

It was like we’d been bewitched by Sirens. If we ended up on the rocks, so be it. Leaving those risers with out consummation was not an option.

“Dada Dada there’s um… there’s um… you have a dragonfly on you!” announced my four year old as though I’d won the lottery. “Coooooool,” I said, humoring him but not bothering to look. I know better than to take my eyes off a half-tied blood knot. “Yep, on your special wader pants that give, Read More