Creativity in lieu of boredom. An injury worth it's own cause.

The past two weeks I have been laid up due to an injury received while fishing/hiking off the "Bmac" and App trails. A little slice of heaven called Long Creek that teeming with, what a fly fisherman's wife would consider an "unhealthy amount," beautiful wild Brookies. Being that Brookies are only found at specific altitudes in this part of the country, my friend Lew and I had to trod a bit further than we usually did. However, the reward is worth the effort. At 1500' the air is thin and less humid in December/ January. It was very noticeable when we crossed the point of altitude due to the fact we started breathing heavier. Not to mention the snow glistening as if the mountain gods spent the eve of that morning spreading thousands of tiny diamonds across the terrain. The evergreen and mountain laurel droop low, bearing the weight of fresh powder. The scenery is, to say the least, both physically and spiritually breathtaking.
Although we did not catch anything on this day. Most likely due to the late afternoon sun not being in the favor of small blue line stream fishermen. The time was nevertheless well spent. As for the injured ankle, it has kept me out of work and fishing. Which are often confused in my home, most likely because my wife see's me laboriously studying stream anatomy and subsurface aquatic entomology as if I were pursuing a Phd in the aforementioned. It may seem trivial to put oneself in potentially harmful situation just to hold a living thing for a moment just to be released.
But my heart is where the stream lay. In pursuit of such simple creatures who's spirit courses through my veins, I find myself in simplest form. To hold this beautiful thing and feel it's life in my hands is to feel alive. This moment is where all my inequalities bear no importance. The fish do not hold any grievances to my attire, employment, gender, or race. They do not hold a grudge for taking them for a ride on 7' of graphite. Instead, they lay helpless in my grasp as if to offer themselves but a moment for my pleasure. Taking in what beauty this world has to offer. To see this beauty is to experience heaven in its rawest form. Like my first kiss in junior high, or the first time I stepped onto the field at Appalachian state university. I feel very much alive while holding this creature and will continue to as long as I have a breath in my body. A man once said that "happiness doesn't last forever, except in our memories." So I hold dear to each fish I am privileged to meet. That being said, some day if I am grieved with Alzheimer's, I will need someone to take me fishing so that the memory can be revamped.
Maybe tying flies is a way of coping with the fact of having to wait for that next chance of holding a fish. Or maybe tying is a way for my soul to search just as I do in my quest for fish, for beauty, and for my own memories.
And I cast....