My office is exactly seven minutes downstream from one of my favorite fishing spots. I check the weather on my work computer and try to figure out why today would be a good fishing day–even if I’m not fishing anytime soon. Warm equals hatches. Cold equals people staying home. Windy equals nymphing. And rain. Rain is my favorite.
Once a stray mayfly bumped into my window as I graded student essays. I tell my students to just write about something they love–about something they can’t not write about. But they won’t. I tell them that I’ll read essays about video games, about music, about old MASH episodes, about pocket lint or My-Little-Pony collections. I ask them what they look up on the internet when they have five minutes (and, sometimes, I regret that). Maybe they just don’t care about anything, and maybe that’s the problem. After work, I go home and eat dinner with my wife, and put my daughter, Hennie, to bed. Then I pull out my fly bench and try to reconstruct that mayfly.