Voices of the valley: Unsupervised exploration
In the summer, boys ride by our house on Willis Street to the Clark Fork River. Tied to their rucksacks, fly rods bend in the air as they head to deep waters running west, hopefully taken with strikes and trout for their casts. Many of these young fly fishermen keep to themselves in the tradition of the sport. This aloneness at a young age lays the foundation of our rural culture in each of us, allowing for insightful experiences and thoughts.
As we create distances on the road to some other place, this summer I danced in wind and hailstorms and lost myself in the best possible way. This summer, I realized I am just a sapling as I collected rocks and listened to them clanging in my pocket. This summer, I listened to nature and to myself. (Liv Winnicki, Poet in the Mountains)
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