The surfer waits for the break, we who fish wait for the hatch, like a wave, what we wait for evolves with time and with a mass of variability arrives on a somewhat predicted schedule. What we chase and wait for vanishes as fast as it arrives but the satisfaction of being present for what is offered is something to behold. The water boils and the fish rise, line gets tight and the fish is on, this what makes some of our worlds go round.

To many it's understandable difficult to understand how some of us pay so much attention to just a bug that comes and goes...  For what it's worth I hope that everyone has their own "break" or "hatch" that they case but I fear many do not.  For those of us who probably spend too much time standing rivers waving a stick around this is our chase, small flies that only live for a day before they die but the short span of their lives carries on through the anticipation of the next big hatch when once again the conditions fall in line and we are again found waiting for what we know.  The season of my favorite fly will not last too much longer but without question in years to come as life carries on you can find me on little rivers waiting for the evenings where good stories have the potential of being created, setting sun, warm air, cold water, falling flys and landed fish. 

I know the girl looking at me a few feet away will never understand our chase and frankly most never will, in trying to explain it I found it hard to place into words, it is just something that has a drive for some.