XO-LP // Laura Palmer


Love Letters to a New Year.

52 Letters: #5

Dear Trout,

I was called the "trout slayer." *

I'm serious. I was. I caught only two of you, but both of you swallowed my dreaded (but super magical) jig. I'm really sorry about that, but I just don't have the fisherlady's hands yet. You know, that light hold of the St Croix, the calm, non-jittery grip that lets you feel the slightest tug on your line. That. I don't have it. What I do have after fishing 6 (ish) streams: respect for the trout and the quiet quest of the fisherman (or in this case, fisherlady) and a full understanding of why people wear Chacos

Respect for the you, the trout, isn't something I gained in some spiritual moment of fishing bliss. In fact, most of the time I fear that the HBF enjoys your company more than mine (the plight of the fisherman's roommate, you get it). So most of the time I kinda hated you. Sorry.

But there I was in Coldwater Creek, not even getting a teeny bite on my hook, which at the time was coated in hot pink glittery dough bait (or "trout crack"), and I SAW YOU IN THE WATER. The girl (that girl is me) with zero ability to spot a deer in a field as we pass it on the side of the road saw a trout family of three swimming in the rapids of this perfect little stream. My Chaco-ed feet were covered with the spring fed waters of Northeast Iowa and I whispered, because fish can hear loud freckled faced voices, "holy smokes I have outdoor eyes." After a six day adventure, I figured you out. I semi-understand the lure of trout fishing (pun intended). Ends up that it might have been a spiritual moment of fishing bliss. I'll wear my Trout Unlimited hat with a bit more pride knowing that I had my fisherlady moment.

So the trout slayer* struck only two of you. HBF made us a heck of a meal once we returned to Hotel Beaverdale (what we've decided to call the house so we constantly feel like we're on a vacation) out of the respectable trout. You were delicious. Sorry. 

There. I said it. I like the fishing.

Until we meet again trout, 


*Trout slayer isn't a nice nickname. Sorry PETA. I don't mean I hate animals.