Upon waking and when my limbs have acknowledged each other I walk the few steps to the open window and take in the air.
The morning of an angling adventure always stirs the spirit if initially not the body. No angler can fail to be enthused with piscatorial expectation when waking and the yawn of a new day beckons.
Time – I am somewhat preoccupied with time, not as the keeper of days but as facilitator to the ‘span’ contained within them; permitting time to pass without check relieves the constraints set by it, and I find it wonderfully liberating being lost on paths that take me away from catching fish, for I have time or in fact no time in which to venture – in the wild and forgotten places the ebb and flow of hours is conducive and just maybe full with experiences anew.
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