All that fare and not a trenchman among them. Maxine and I decide to take up where the trout have left off. While the plates are in preparation Maxine casts the Steelhead Bee again, out amongst the water-stranded insects. Now there is calm and a time to taste of the good life, to admire the spreading sky over Mt. Adrian, to lose oneself in all the nice things that surround one between catching trout. Somewhere within this mind-softening harmony there is a sound, much like an underwater vacuum, and there are little rings melting away from where Maxine's fly once sat.
Dinner goes a little faster.
The sultry air of mid-afternoon has been pushed out. There are fresh breezes to liven the lake and periods of calm to rest it. The sun shines and warms the air and more ants and termites appearing in tottering flight over the water. Knives and forks and plates are back in the basket and our rods in hand, and the trout have take over dining where we left off. Thinking back over the next short hours, it seems we had trout on more often than not.