Home is the sailor, home from sea:
Her far-borne canvas furled
The ship pours shining on the quay
The plunder of the world.
Home is the hunter from the hill:
Fast in the boundless snare
All flesh lies taken at his will
And every fowl of air.
‘Tis evening on the moorland free,
The starlit wave is still:
Home is the sailor from the sea,
The hunter from the hill.
Home is the sailor – A.E housman
This last year has been one of incredible change on so many fronts. Unemployment, re-employment, family highs and lows, extreme national social unrest, and then that monster COVID, have all served to upend much of what I once saw as stability. All of this served to delay the launch of a new and improved version of Southern Tier Fly Fisher, promised to my old blog’s readership back in November, 2019. As a master procrastinator, I’ve dilly-dallied long enough. In the words of Benjamin Franklin, “You may delay, but time will not.” And so I am at last launching this new blog, imperfect as it may initially appear, with the hopes of raising old friendships, cultivating new ones, fly fishing old haunts in the literary sense, and making more discoveries of the piscatorial kind. I am back home, at last…
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