It's the last day of 2023, and the sun can't decide if it'll come out. Chores are finished, and in a bit I'll kindle a fire and start the hoppin' john for a low-key evening with the dog and a toast to the new year.
I've earned it. This last year's been a whirlwind of putting out fires that only laid down in the middle of November. It's the most I've put into my job, and at times I felt the strain. Burnout. We've been in drought most of the year and that hasn't helped, curtailing the white bass run in spring and dropping nearby smallmouth streams to a pathetic trickle. The local spring creek was out of the question for most of the year. I spent far more time indulging in the simple zen of lobbing nightcrawlers from the bank of the big river, because it was close and easy and peaceful.
I explored some new country in the Ozarks over a long wet weekend, camping and hiking and swimming with the dog. And I did make it to the Bighorns in August to get back in the right headspace. Got off the beaten path, away from the sports and the off-road fanatics to throw dry flies at cutthroat and brookies and brown trout, fool around with some pikas and mule deer and watch a big bull moose amble through my campsite at dusk.
Who knows what the next year will bring. It's bound to be weird. I'm already in the midst of planning trips for the upcoming year, and keeping an eye on the proposed legislation that'll invariably impact the rivers and streams I love.
Maybe it's best to take things one day at a time, though. It's looking likely I'll get out to see how the little spring creek has fared with the rain and snow we've had over the past week...and I suppose we'll take it from there. See what the new year brings.
Take it easy. Enjoy the day. I hope you've had a wonderful 2023, and a superlative new year!
Take care,
Tom
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