So Lady Jane, as a child, was teased by the girls and the boys, to the point one day, she stopped caring about what others thought.
She told me that years ago she was sitting in the college law library when a woman came over to her table, they started to chat, and after a few weeks one thing led to another and she didn’t decide to come out of the closet, but she didn’t feel like getting too far away from that door either.
She wasn’t too sure that’s the life style she wanted, but she was tired of being alone too.
Most days everything would be fine but Lady Jane, as we call her now, would get a bee in her bonnet, load up the hip boots fly rod and creel and go trout fishing all by herself. Some days it was worse, she’d go bird hunting.
That didn’t sit well with her mistress of significance and the Miz, in the relationship despised her killing for food. After all, they were supposed to be vegans.
Problem was, Lady Jane could only handle so much salad and later in life she reverted back to not worrying what anybody, no matter who it was, thought. In her own spirited words, that was enough, said she parted her hair, her belongs and her ways, and once again in life, she found herself single.
She moved a lot, sometimes just looking for somebody, had moved for no other reason than looking for something, but trout fishing, no matter where she was, was in her blood.
So lady Jane retired, bought a relic cabin and with a life’s earnings retrofitted it into a fine home. She has her garden and music, bird feeders and bee hives, and all the quiet trimmings she enjoys.
And not too many years ago, after lots of fishing trips all by herself, well along comes himself, and one day on a river in northwestern Wisconsin she meets a man about chest deep in his chest wader’s fly-fishing for some brookie’s.
No matter which one tells me the story these days, that day, in the river, set the hook for the two of them. The trout whisperer