Seated on a large, flat rock along a tranquil section of the Guadalupe River, I hear the faint whoosh of my husband’s fly line as his cast cuts through the air. He’s fishing in front of me, hip-deep in the water. Behind me, two squirrels are chasing each other, rustling about in crinkly fallen leaves. I look up at a towering pecan tree next to me, relaxed by its occasional sway. This is the soothing soundtrack I look forward to every winter. I’m at Rio Guadalupe Resort in Sattler, reading a book at water’s edge, just steps away from my rented cottage for the week.