Monday, July 7, 2014

Today I am grateful for fishing.  My husband loves to fish.  It’s okay, but not really my thing.  He’s a catch and release kinda guy so I don’t have to clean fish like I used to with my dad, so that’s good.  I do love being outside on perfect summer days.

 

Sign Up for E-News

This is the way I like to fish.  Throw a hunk of worm on a hook.  Put a bobber on the line and throw the worm in the water.  Sit back in a comfortable chair and read a book until someone screams that your bobber is under the water and you have a fish on.  Repeat with each chapter.  Lots of chapters, lots of fish, absolutely no concerns at all.  None.

 

Since we are not taking a large trip this summer, I’ve been schlepping himself all over the place on day trips.  Before you even go there, know that he loves it.  He does.  I’m like his personal tour guide.  Saturday I announced we were going fishing.  After he picked himself up off the floor from his dead faint (I have never suggested this in my life) the car was packed and we were off. 

 

The Delaware river was running fast and brown. . .totally brown. . .not quite umber, but definitely burnt sienna brown.  We stopped at the park, near Easton, where we usually go, but John determined a fish wouldn’t even be able to see the bait.  Shows what I know.  I didn’t know they saw it.  I don’t know what I thought.  It hits them on the head? He threw a line in a lower section of the canal and I wandered around taking pictures. 

 

In my wanderings I found a great spot for us to have our picnic.  I spread the sarong on the table and laid out our feast.  Broccoli salad, deviled eggs and raspberries for me;  cheddar cheese, crackers and a banana for him.  The weather was perfection.  Warm in the sun, not hot.  Cool in the shade, not cold.  Not a cloud in the sky and only a tiny breeze.  No bugs.  No one nearby smoking cigarettes.  Heaven on earth.

 

After lunch he said, “I might as well throw a line into this part of the canal before we go.”  Might as well.  I didn’t even have the lunch mess cleaned up before he had a fish.  A 12 inch bass.  Nice fish.  Usually all he catches fishing is a cold, so I grabbed the camera.  “Are you sending that out?” he asks.  “I can’t.  I took it with the camera.”  The disappointment on his face was visible.  By the time I set the camera down he had another bloody fish!  This time I grabbed not only the camera but my “stupid” phone so we could send pictures out.  When I opened my book he had another only this was a nice sized sunfish.  Out comes the two phone and camera. 

 

Today I am grateful for fishing, but by the fifth large bass, I declared we had enough fish pictures to last a lifetime.  Unless he caught Moby, I was done with fish pictures.  He caught eight bass and one sunny altogether.  More than he’s caught in a long, long time.  He declared it a great day. . .and it was, and oh, by the way. . .we were fishing in Germany on the Rhine. . .in my mind!