Fish Camp

For a dozen years or more, I’ve limited myself to very specific “shoes.” At first, it was strictly sport sandals and cowboy boots, and later, that evolved into just sandals and boots. For a while, I had a pair of Justin lace-up work boots, but they were, in the strictest sense, cowboy boots. I’ve since narrowed my selection, and I’m down to just a couple of pairs of boots, having, once again, found a cobbler who is both good and inexpensive. Pity he claims to speak no English, but we communicate just fine, anyway.

His shop smells like a saddle shop, or the way a cobbler should smell, redolent in rich “leather” accents and other aromatic blends. Saddle soap and shoe polish.

There’s a framed letter on one wall, from ‘old school’ Lucchese Boots, either an endorsement or thank-you note for services.

So the simple life, instead of buying something new, just use and in the spirit of Mercury in Retrograde, reuse. Or recycle. Or use again. Or just get resoled and holes patched.

Before the last fishing trip, when the balmy weather turned unexpectedly cold and frigid, I picked up a $12 pair of “tennis shoes,” or “runners,” in some vernacular. Wore once. Was glad I had them. Will save them for fishing agin, next December.

It’s an example of what happens around a powerful, potent eclipse like this one.

One step further away from what my ideal dictate. Still, it is Mercury RX and I have to be willing to bend. Feet stayed warm that way.