A Feeling Like Home BY: M.D. Mynhier As I made my way through the darkness of a predawn summer morning along a long, winding farm road that led to a creek, my head filled with thoughts of smallmouth bass blowing-up on one of my favorite top-water baits. I looked up into the sky and nodded and grinned to stars seemed to flicker a nod back. The moon lay deep to the westward. I was walking head-on into a black wall that with daylight would become a tall, steep hill covered in old growth oak. The hill plunged upward forming the south bank of the creek with its limestone boulders jutting out into the water. As I got closer, I could see the triangle shapes of hemlocks that grew along the creek and at a distance, they were bearskin covered teepees of some unknown Indian village. I laughed at that idea and laughed at how the mind plays games with men when it is dark and they are alone. Just before I made the creek bank, I stepped on a small dead limb and when it cracked, it sounded loud against the night and a tom turkey gobbled from the roost high upon the hill at the sound. I knew that in less than thirty-minutes it would fly down to drink from the creek and to feed on acorns along the south bank. I could hear the gurgling water through the darkness long before I could see the stream and my heart pounded at the thought of the fishing that was at hand. The stream seemed very warm as I stepped slowly into it. I was being careful, not wanting to ripple the water whatsoever. To get the big fish, you had to be smart and that meant not disturbing the water more than you have to. A big part of stream fishing at daylight is to be a silent stalker. And you never know what you will see along the way when you become a part of the landscape. My first cast arced into the blackness created by overhanging limbs from giant trees that for decades of seasons have been standing sentinel along both banks of the creek. I heard it splash and I allowed it to settle before I began reeling, popping it atop the surface. After a few minutes, I noticed the sky turn from black to grey as dawn came to the land. The thing about dawn is you never really know when it happens. One moment it is dark and before you realize it, it is light and somehow you have missed out on how it happened. But it was dawn and a heavy fog began to lift from the water’s surface and you hear the birds singing and squirrels bouncing along the high limbs of oaks and you hear the dew start dripping from leaves and if you did not know better, you would think it was drizzling rain and the gray sky only strengthens the notion that it is raining and all at once, you are inside a thick fog and can only hear the sounds of the creek and of the forest and you are as alone as you have ever been and that is when you feel it. You feel it because you have somehow become a part of it. Signed copies of my novel “Where Islands Are” are $10.99 while they last, plus $5.01 postage making the total $16.00. Make your check or money order payable to M.D. Mynhier. Mailing address: Where Islands Are, 2395 Harbor Blvd, Condo 218, Port Charlotte, FL 33952 You can also find my novel, “Where Islands Are”@amazon books for Kindle and in paperback
Posted on: Sun, 15 Sep 2013 23:01:47 +0000
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