Paul awoke to the pink-orange of sunshine on his eyelids. He had fallen asleep on the bank. The gnarled willow tree protected him from the late afternoon sun, but a bare patch in the branches allowed the light to penetrate to where he lay. Just below the branches and just above the horizon. The day was almost over and the day had just begun.
This wasn’t the first time that Paul had fallen asleep on the bank of the small creek. The creek formed one side of his property’s boundary line. He had two human neighbors, a state highway, and a spring creek. He was pleasant to everyone. He was friendliest to the trout in the spring creek. The sounds of their home was his constant companion. The gentle water’s gurgling, occasional trout or muskrat’s splashing, and chorus of birdsong was the background to which he woke and he fell asleep. Even when he was in his bedroom; not streamside.
Falling asleep can happen when you’re laying down and when you’re still and when you’re tired. Paul was always tired. He was rarely still, and thus he didn’t lay down to often. But watching trout feed from the damp streamside grass was a rare exception. Ticks, poison ivy, and muddy clothes were all possibilities. The trout were there and required more urgency. Fish did rise to the stream’s “hatches.” But these intermittent moments brought in countless out of state anglers and really did nothing but put the wiser, larger fish down. read more
