I don't know much about fishing. Wrong, I know almost nothing about fishing.

My step-father, who loved to fish, would take me fishing occasionally. I found it was a good place to visit. And he was a wonderful man. But I recall that when I would start to catch fish (and he didn't), he would move the boat. He was a lake fisherman. In later years, he would just bait the hooks of a couple of poles attached to the dock, throw in the line, and go back up to the house. He would check later to see if he caught anything.

Now, this fisherman appears to be fly-fishing. I suspect someone will straighten me out on this, if I'm off-base. I wanted to photograph him because of his orange shirt, and his tanned legs, and the orange logo on his cap. And here he was standing on top of a waterfall and watching his fly (hook) float downstream. And he'd gather it up and flip it out on the water and let it float downstream.

He dressed the part, but I began to believe he wasn't any better at this than I was. But I do recall someone telling me once, "Catching fish ain't the point." And "A bad day of fishing is better than a good day at work."

This kind of wonderment occurs when you watch a fellow watch his fly float downstream.

And then, there's this: "When we cast our bread upon the waters, we can presume that someone downstream whose face we may never see will benefit from our action, even as we enjoy the gifts sent to us from a donor upstream." Maya Angelou