Every trip is a gift. The longer I live, the more I realize how precious each opportunity is. Each time I break down the fly rods and slide them into their tubes, I wonder when and where I'll assemble them again. These are thoughts I hadn't visited until recently. With age and experience come introspection and epiphany and mine is this: fishing as in other pursuits of passion is a privilege instead of a given. Never was this reality more pronounced than on my latest fly-fishing excursion to my "home waters" in Arkansas. I ventured north from Gulfport for a quick trip wedged between the end of Spring term and beginning of Summer term. I planned two days fishing and of course, was at the mercy of the weather and the fickle generation schedule of the USACE. Arkansas has had an unseasonably wet spring, even for them. The tailwater reservoirs (Bull Shoals, Norfork and Greers Ferry) were all in flood pool and the Spring River was blown out. The reports were not promisi