Once again I’m spending the holidays in Virginia. I’m from the Midwest. I root for the Bears, love a good relish tray at family gatherings, and don’t think ketchup belongs on a hot dog. Illinois is where I’m from.

But Virginia is home.

It is where I spent my formative, teenage years. It is where I met my wife. And it is where I started fly fishing. The hollers of the Shenandoah Mountains, just downhill from Skyline drive, are where I met brook trout for the first time. They are where I learned that a short fly rod is a good tool. They are where I ran across rattlesnakes, bear scat, and some of the quirkiest people I’ve ever met in the woods.

So here are a few things I’ve written about my adopted home state. Check out each one by clicking on the picture or the title, and listen to some decent bluegrass for full effect.

Scent Home

Every time my family and I visit Northern Virginia, we’re outside. Walking, playing, running, and fishing. Outside, things are incredibly familiar. That is the case even I haven’t lived here in 20 years. Move away from the ponds and greenspaces and things are very, very, very different. The suburban sprawl has run across the landscape like kudzu. I’m more likely to get struck by  lightening than bump into a high school classmate. But what is outside seems to be untouched. Somehow the creeks and little lakes, tucked  into subdivisions and adjacent to preserved parcels, are thriving…

And there is Only One Fish Pic

Interstates give way to secondary highways, which become state roads and, if you’re lucky, well-maintained gravel roads after that. The temptation to keep the windows down to smell the fresh air is tempered by the desire to keep the inside of your car from getting covered in a fine grey dust…

Higher Fly Fishing Perspective

Along with taking in the breathtaking vistas, I spent a lot of time orienting myself with my surroundings. There is something about standing in a spot, seeing another spot, and tangibly reconciling how they orient to each other in real space. For my purposes it meant seeing familiar towns down in valleys. Then I’d picture the mountain views I was used to while I was on those streets – though now I was on those mountains…