As jolly St. Nick prepares his sleigh and team of tiny reindeer, my thoughts move to the weather.  Just like Santa, I too plan to be active on Christmas Eve.  Now going on nine years, my tradition of spending the day outdoors on the water looks to be a tough one.

The forecast is filled with a stiff breeze and showers, but my hopes are not dashed.  I’ll be out there despite the weather.  Its going to be my last salty outing of the year, and I’m not about to pass just because its a little less than ideal in the weather department.

My Christmas Eve tradition is a day of reflection on the year past, its successes and failures (plenty of those), as well as a time to look forward to the coming year and what it might bring.

The cleansing I receive at the hands of the great outdoors and its beauty is why I fly fish, it is who I’ve become.  Just like the gifts brought by three wise men, the water delivers me a bounty that is hard to measure.

Less than a week ago, I spent the afternoon with my young son, chasing redfish in small creeks and ponds hoping to sow the same seed in him that my father nurtured in me.

On Christmas Eve I’ll be thankful for all that I’ve been able to do in the year past and look forward to more good times that will surely come.