Enough already.

It rained again last night and the streams continue to rise. We haven't seen clear, unstained water around here in weeks. Open ground sucks at your shoes, every step a sloppy, noisy affair that chews up turf and soaks your socks. The wind never stops rattling the empty trees.

I'm hesitant to complain further because for some last night's storms came with tornados and wholesale ruin. But still.

If there is a bright side to the swollen rivers and flooded lakes, it's that my reading time has increased considerably. I'm finally working through that stack of books on my table, the ones I've been meaning to read for weeks now. The Things They Carried by Tim O'Brien, Another Country by Christopher Camuto, Balkan Ghosts by Robert Kaplan. Others too, but those are the three I would recommend if you're in the market.

There are a few magazines I read regularly as well. The Fly Fish Journal is probably at the top of that list. Strong writing is the hallmark of TFFJ and through it I've come to know writers like David Zoby, Hilary Hutcheson, Amanda Monthei, and Nathaniel Riverhorse Nakadate.

The Winter issue has been out for a few weeks now and I've read it through, like all of the other issues, a dozen times or so. I actually have a short piece in this issue titled Finding Citico Creek, and if that sounds like a shameless, self-serving plug, well, ok. Don't mean for it to come off that way.

In any case, TFFJ is one to put on your list if it's not there already.