Fly Fishing, Olentangy River It wasn’t supposed to rain, but it did. At first there was only the sound of water in water – riffle tumbling over shallow stones. Next, the sound of water in treetops – rain approaching river carried by wind and cloud. Then, suddenly, the sound of water on water – drops dimpling river, elemental hush of reunion. Sky water and Earth water and me – body made of water standing in water blessed by water. © Mary Lee Hahn, 2022
We had a nice turnout for the July meet-up of Ohio Women on the Fly. Spirits were high as we walked from the parking lot at Antrim Lake to the Olentangy River, which runs near the south and east sides of the lake. The clouds were building, but we weren’t worried — rain was not in the forecast.
We got soaked. Drenched. We were soggy, and by the time we got back to cars when it was starting to get dark, muddy up to our knees.
It was great fun. It was an adventure. When was the last time you had an adventure (the kind involving lots of water and mud)? I highly recommend it.
Every time I go fly fishing, the experience is new. No two times on a river are the same. That’s why fly fishing is a sport I love.
Catherine gave the Inklings this month’s challenge to write a poem about sports. Here’s what the rest of the crew came up with, and Molly has this week’s Poetry Friday roundup to boot.