Religion
The first shop was closed. The doorman apologized, but told him there was another on the other side of the railroad. The traveller opened his umbrella and set off through the cold rain. He was hungry, and cold weather had come into the town but he was happy. He thought he might stop in some place and buy a can of beer and drink it on the way back from the fishing shop.
The shop was warm and cozy in its being filled with books and heavy canvas bags and wool clothing, hundreds of rods, the split cane ones in glass cases, gleaming, precise reels, and a few customers -- that eccentric sort that are the fly-fishermen -- carefully regarding whatever it was they were after that particular evening. The young, disheveled looking fellow with the heavy glasses was squatting in front of the drawers that held thin reels of monofilament. He wanted to tie up some leaders this week and he was trying to decide between the clear line and the light brown "gut". It was a tough, but important decision.
Our traveller put his umbrella away and went over to the sliding wooden panels, pegged and stocked with all the hen and rooster capes and game bird skins. After looking through the top grade rooster capes that ranged from $100 up to $150 (pricey, but he thought he might like to buy one some day soon), he moved on to the partridge skins which were much more reasonably priced and what he was after today anyway. He was going to tie up some of his favorite flies in the world. They were simple, but that added to their appeal. He was going to tie up the old Cumberland pattern. He was going to tie the Partridge and Orange. Just thinking the name filled him with that sense of the sacred. Standing there in the warm shop, he was filled with religion.
The shop was warm and cozy in its being filled with books and heavy canvas bags and wool clothing, hundreds of rods, the split cane ones in glass cases, gleaming, precise reels, and a few customers -- that eccentric sort that are the fly-fishermen -- carefully regarding whatever it was they were after that particular evening. The young, disheveled looking fellow with the heavy glasses was squatting in front of the drawers that held thin reels of monofilament. He wanted to tie up some leaders this week and he was trying to decide between the clear line and the light brown "gut". It was a tough, but important decision.
Our traveller put his umbrella away and went over to the sliding wooden panels, pegged and stocked with all the hen and rooster capes and game bird skins. After looking through the top grade rooster capes that ranged from $100 up to $150 (pricey, but he thought he might like to buy one some day soon), he moved on to the partridge skins which were much more reasonably priced and what he was after today anyway. He was going to tie up some of his favorite flies in the world. They were simple, but that added to their appeal. He was going to tie up the old Cumberland pattern. He was going to tie the Partridge and Orange. Just thinking the name filled him with that sense of the sacred. Standing there in the warm shop, he was filled with religion.
© 2006 by PA Casey (ryecatcher)
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