Trout stream, Eastern Sierra
I have always loved the intimacy and serenity of Eastern Sierra streams, especially in the Fall when the Aspens turn. Walking knee deep over clean gravel, the light golden on the trees and on the water, fly rod in hand and an occasional wild, brightly colored rainbow trout on the end of the line. Time stops and cares fall away and all that's left is a sense of wonder and awe and the pleasure of feeling yourself connected to the endless, eternal flow of life. No longer some separate, alien thing but part of it all. Part of the heartbeat of the earth.
Trout stream, Eastern Sierra
I have always loved the intimacy and serenity of Eastern Sierra streams, especially in the Fall when the Aspens turn. Walking knee deep over clean gravel, the light golden on the trees and on the water, fly rod in hand and an occasional wild, brightly colored rainbow trout on the end of the line. Time stops and cares fall away and all that's left is a sense of wonder and awe and the pleasure of feeling yourself connected to the endless, eternal flow of life. No longer some separate, alien thing but part of it all. Part of the heartbeat of the earth.