The Fine Art of Catching Absolutely No Fish
I set out for a peaceful day on the water. Rod in hand. Cooler packed. Dreams of reeling in a legendary fish dancing in my head.
Instead, I caught… boots. Lots of boots. A suspicious number of boots, honestly. At some point I started to wonder if the lake had once been a footwear factory or if everyone in town makes a habit of hurling their shoes overboard.
Still, there’s something charming about a day like that. The line goes tight, your heart jumps, and then you reel in what looks like a prop from an old Western. You start telling yourself stories. Who wore this boot? Why did they part ways with it? Was it a dramatic moment or just a bad day with slippery mud?
I didn’t come home with dinner, but I did come home with a new appreciation for optimism. Fishing isn’t really about the fish. It’s about the hope that the next cast is the one.
And hey, at least boots don’t flop around in the bottom of the boat.