Where the Creek Meets the River: A November Reflection
Just south of Hamilton lies a sanctuary that never fails to reconnect me with my soul. It’s a stretch of valley threaded with golden aspen, ribboned with river and creek, and framed by jagged, snow-capped peaks. Though a bit far from my job, I often find myself daydreaming of living there, perhaps where the creek meets the river in a patchwork of meadows and groves. November is its most magical month — when everything is woven in hues of amber, burnt umber, russet, ochre, and firelight gold.
It was here that I recently ventured with my 14-year-old son, whose heart currently orbits entirely around fishing. We were headed to Grandpa Pickle’s not-so-secret fishing hole at the end of a quiet road, hopeful to tempt a few small trout from the chilly waters.
En route, we passed the old ranch where my great-grandparents once lived. My grandmother’s stories of growing up under the shadow of an enormous boulder — tales filled with mountain lions, cattle, horses, and just a little mischief — play in my mind like a beloved folk song. There’s a longing in that place… a quiet desire to sip tea on a porch overlooking a stillness only found in cow-strewn pastures.
My son, now taller than me and growing faster than his limbs can catch up, stood sentinel beside the creek. There’s something poetic in how he now stands where my great-grandfather Pickle once did — rod in hand, heart open to the water’s secrets. He hasn’t fully embraced fly fishing yet, but he speaks the language of lures and bait with surprising fluency.
The “Me” in Fishing
For me, fishing is more a meditation than a mission. It’s the joy of sipping tea beside a river, a cozy blanket around my legs, Jytte Joy curled in a furry ball at my feet. I’m there for the quiet — the hush between breeze and birdsong, the light flickering off moving water, the delicious simplicity of clever little gear. I love the ritual of it: folding chairs that clip to a pack, tiny bobbers and minimalist tackle boxes, a thermos tucked in next to a well-worn paperback or my kindle.
But mostly, it’s about time. Time with those who come along.
These days, Atlas is nearly always my shadow — or perhaps I am his — rod in hand, dreams of fish circling his heart. Sometimes my husband joins us, or one of the older kids, though they come less often now. I miss the days when they were all small, when every outing felt like an expedition — snacks crammed into bags, boots on the wrong feet, laughter echoing down the trail. Those memories feel warm and weathered, like sun-smoothed river stones you keep in your coat pocket long after summer has gone.
So maybe fishing, for me, is less about catching and more about keeping — keeping presence, keeping connection, keeping something sacred alive in the simplest of moments.
Something New: Magnet Fishing
Lately, I’ve been eyeing something new: magnet fishing. It’s a little wild, a little curious, and honestly? Right up my alley. A mix of treasure hunting and environmental cleanup, all wrapped in the thrill of what might be hiding below the surface. I can imagine myself dropping a heavy-duty magnet into the water beside my son, hoping to tug up some forgotten relic — a rusty horseshoe, a vintage lure, maybe even a tale of its own. It’s fishing for the romantically practical — and I’ve found a kit I’m excited to try. My gear list is not curated for the experts – but if relaxing in a peaceful space with a slight chance of taking home dinner is up your alley, you may enjoy some of the items I like to take along. Feel free to use the links below.
Favorite Fishing + Adventure Day Gear
- Lightweight Travel Fishing Rod
- Minimalist Tackle Box / Combo Kit
- Tiny Bobbers & Assorted Lures
- Packable Chair
- Outdoor Blanket (Rumpl-Style)
- Adventure Backpacks
- Compact First Aid Kit
- Thermos + Mug Combo
- Camp Mug (Tea is Essential)
- Magnet Fishing Kit
Captured Moments
“The kind of place I dream of — where the creek meets the river and the golden aspen keep your secrets.”
“My son’s catch of the day — he always knows just what the river is willing to give.”
“Gentle hands, a steady grip, earning a lifetime of patience.”
“Another one for the storybooks.”
“My kind of fishing — a book, a thermos, and no need to catch a thing.”
“The world’s most perfect trail companion.”
“Fishing is also for napping — Jytte says so.”
“One of our sillier fishing buddies — who never once caught a fish but always came along.”
Happy November, friends. May you find your own small sanctuary this season — whether it’s along a riverbank, curled under a blanket, or simply watching someone you love doing something they were born to do.
Until next time,
RissaRoo 🍂
Rissa's Wildwoven Finds 
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