Taking a Break

I have a writing deadline approaching but for the life of me I couldn't wrap my mind around it so I did the only sensible thing -- I went fly fishing.
I broke the news to Jilda over coffee. She's a little under the weather but I could almost hear her say, don't let the door hit you in the butt.
I got to the water before sunrise and the mist on the water looked mystical. I tied on a stonefly and started casting.
I think trout must sleep in, during the summer. Tonight I did a Google search and found nothing to substantiate this, but I chose to believe they do because they weren't biting. 
I could hear a great blue heron upstream, though I couldn't see him.
Rivers have an earthy smell. Moss, fallen trees, wild flowers and decaying leaves are all components, but there are other things that are familiar, yet unnamable. 
As I tried to put labels on the smells, a young rainbow had its way with my fly. By the time I realized it, he figured out he'd been duped and spit the fly out. On his way downstream he flipped out of the water as if to say, kiss my a** mister fisherman.
In the past I would have beaten myself up for the lack of focus, but I've come to understand that it's not about catching fish.  So I smiled at the rainbow because if I were a fish, I would have done the same thing.
When the morning sun burned the mist off the water, I started catching trout. I  caught 10 in all, but of course I let them all go.
This afternoon when I got home, Jilda was heading out to work. I took the laptop out to the screen porch and knocked out the first draft of the story that's due.
I doubt the story would have been any better if I'd stayed home and tapped keys all day. Some times you get more done when you take a break.