It may be Deer Season, but I'm going Fishing...

When she arrived I went over her gear. The summer wading waders even with wool pants made me nervous but she was amply supplied with the new fangled boot and mitten warmers, wool socks and hat to match. She was dressed like a wool shirt commercial, but it looked a lot better on her than my manly deer hunting pals.
Her spinning rod was top notch but not gonna cut it. I rigged a spare fly rod and we were off. First she wanted to stop along the way for coffee. We got it to go. Then, with me driving she noticed things me and the boys typically raced right past. A small town Store front that had quilting classes, a closed down diner, and a sign that was offering “free kittens to good homes”. Under my breath I wondered if someone gave kittens to bad homes.
It was a pleasant ride, no politics or bad economy chat. . The cab of my truck had a pleasant perfumed aroma that I really grew quite fond of. I kept trying to lead the conversation in the direction of how we would fish or what stream lies should produce. She wasn't being lead anywhere.
Not one argument from her, just simple agreement. At this point I wanted a cigar, most of the guys I fish with start to tell me how smart they are and we go over the bigger biggest fish. She wanted to find a ladies room before we hit the river. We all know what the brothers would have done.
Flowing down stream was cold water. The falling leaves from last month had been flushed out. I was hoping the salmon were stacked up like cord wood in the pool. My first sweep cast I was just offering advice on how to get the spawn sack on the bottom. I thought the tap I felt was my small split shot getting fouled on the bottom so I lifted the rod to clear it and a salmon took off. She smiled with a lilted nod.
I played the fish, waded in and netted it myself. She marveled at the deep colors of the fish gone dark in the river. She asked what type of salmon it was and I said it was a Coho. The name pleased her. A very patient demeanor, still very much in play. My buddies would have thrashed the water.
After many attempts she got to set the hook and eventually land what turned out to be the fish of the day. I took several photos as she posed giving all the credit to the fish and not the fisherwoman. We didn't whoop and holler like the boys would have but she grinned all the same.
When the setting sunshine couldn't clear the rock walls it got bone chilling cold. She noticed the first snow flakes of the day and how the rod guides were icing up. With the truck heater on high she deftly pulled a tissue and softly blew her nose. For the first time in years, I didn't use my shirt sleeve.
Driving back she offered to buy me diner and I said being a single dad I really had to get home for a visit I was expecting from my well traveled daughter. So I asked for a rain check for next deer season. She said no, if I wanted to go to dinner it would be next Saturday after we finish fishing again. So sorry boys, I’m not gonna be in deer camp next weekend either, the fishing has really picked up.