Signature Materials ...

A year ago I decided to roll the dice and take a chance. While I've tried a lot of things in life, the one constant has always been fly tying. If I'm honest it's probably the thing that defines who I am among all the things I've done along the way. My old friend Jack Mickievicz passed away a few years ago and I had the opportunity to buy what was left of his tying material business. I asked myself a hundred questions and finally concluded that the worst thing that could happen is I will die with dozens of barrels of un-processed furs and feathers. It could be worse. The past year has been a long process of developing my own dye and blend formulas, assembling notes and putting together the parts of this into something new and unique. Something I could put my name on. It's a process. Pictured here is my booth at the recent Maryland Fly Fishing Show. While it's nothing compared to the slick brick and mortar shops, it's all mine. I don't buy and resell materials. I make this shit. Hopefully in the near future this will become an online experience for tyers looking for unique things. Materials made by a tyer that takes it all very seriously and has spent a lifetime wrapping feathers around little hooks. Stay tuned, it will be fun they said. Till then ...

Un-Named ...

The little fly was tied with care

From slips of bright fibers bound together with hope and silk

It fell onto the water like a whisper

Flirting briefly with its currents

Before slipping beneath the mirrored surface

It's brightness sank into deep darkness

The cool waters carrying it to a place

Beneath a ledge of stone and mosses

The currents teased and pulled at the fly

Until at once the pull changed form

To one pulsing and alive

It's source revealed itself in time

In haloed spots and marbled lines

The bright fly tucked neatly

In the crease of a blackened jaw

With sides that sparkled like jewels

That now lay cold and wet

By hands content to hold

It's beauty for but a moment ...

Soon ...

The little river flows by in silence

Like the cold has taken the words

Its waters seem held by a spell

Pools and runs feel dark and lifeless

Heavy Snows blanket all along its banks

But I know the spell will soon be broken

In its waters, lifeforms stir beneath the rocks

Patiently waiting for longer days

For springtime warmth

Where living things will once again take wing

In cycles and rhythms as old as time itself

Where this quiet pool will again be marked

By the spreading rings of rising fish

When its currents will again sing a light song

Where waters will tumble brightly over smooth stones

Where soon the days will find me wading its currents

And patiently casting a fly

With the same hopes and heart

That brought me here a first time

So very very long ago ...