It’s been a challenging week around our camp.
We’ve had a few twists and turns off the planned path and at times been tired and cranky.
It’s high summer and if you happen to be stuck in the South right now, and by ‘the South’ I mean any geographical location south of Cheyenne, you’ve probably felt the sweat of the summer damned trickling down the back of your neck and dripping down between your shoulder blades as well sometime this week.
I’m sure in part meant as a joke and in part meant as an honest salve and throw back to simpler times in Montana, a friend dropped by yesterday with a sixpack of PBRs.
They were chilled to bone, lifted fresh from the Yeti in the back of his truck with little bits of ice floating in the top rims and glistening in the sun, dripping ice water so cold it almost stung my sandaled feet.
The opening click and belch of foam carried us all back to happier times floating hot caddis-filled summer evenings on the Missouri. We smiled. We laughed. We laughed some more.
Sometimes the simplest things in life can indeed be the most refreshing.
Here’s to a reach back in time and a hearty salute to the smiles cold PBRs have brought and will bring to fly fishers everywhere. (Sure you drink better beer all the time, but every summer needs at least one PBR trip. Just do it. )
Cheers.
