Onward and upward

I spent quality time thinking today.  It didn't take long to put yesterday into perspective. Jilda had an appointment for a haircut and color. That usually takes some time, so I decided to ride up to the Sipsey Fork and see what the water looked like.
I'd called the automated Lake Level hotline so I knew the turbins were on and the water below the dam

where the trout live would be rushing faster than class 5 rapids, but I wanted to go to the water anyhow.
When I got to the entry road to the angler access, there was no one at the fly shop. Normally the lot is full. Not a good sign.  I clicked on my blinker and eased down the access road.
I rolled the window down and the breeze coming off the water was cooler than the air blowing from my air conditioner. The vegetation by the river was as thick as a rain forrest, and the smell of damp earth and moss reminded me of the smells I experienced as a kid at our cabin on the Warrior River.
The area was a ghost town, but fishing wasn't the purpose of my visit. I found a shady spot near the pump house, slipped on my vest, fished my fly rod and reel from behind the seat and walked down toward the water.
I'd forgotten my lure tying glasses so I had to squint to thread a piece of clear filament the size of a human hair through the eye of a hook that was not much bigger than the hole in a sewing needle.
After a few tries I got lucky and tied the tiny lure on my line. The river was up about ten feet so I stood on the access ramp and made a few tentative casts. On the third cast, my fly snagged a low-hanging limb and when I tried to pull it free, the line snapped. I didn't even cuss.
I reeled the line back on the reel, laid the rod across my lap, pulled my shoes off and dangled them in the frigid water, and sat on the ramp for a long while.
You'd be amazed at the level of focus you can attain when you're close to the water. It felt good on a level that's hard to articulate.
After a while, I could tell it was getting close to noon because my stomach became angry, so I slid my chilly feet back into my shoes and walked back up the ramp to my truck.
I got home before Jilda but she phoned saying she was on her way. While I waited, I remembered a contact of a lady that did a story on Jilda and me a few months back when we played a coffee house just south of us.
I dropped her a note to ask who to talk to about getting my column in her paper. She must have been at her computer because she responded within a minute. She gave me the email of her publisher.
I dropped him a quick email, and we exchanged messages all afternoon.
I'm not getting my hopes up, but I'm encouraged.
I also just learned that the Star Herald in Kosciusko, Mississippi will start running my column next week.
Onward and upward.