Fishing

I went fishing this evening for the first time in years. The boy cousins who've been here for The Grandfather's 90th birthday celebration have really enjoyed hanging out together over the last few days/weeks. Things have wound down from the birthday bash, but since the news of The Grandmother's cancer, two more of the cousins (a brother and sister, two of Mom's youngest sister's children) decided to fly in from out West on the tail end of things, and that boy cousin added himself to the growing minority (at this point there seem to be more girl cousins than boy ones).

Anyway, one of the most frequent and most enjoyed pastimes with the group has been to take a pole each and a box of tackle and bait to the pond across the field in front of The Grandparents' house. They've lost themselves over there for hours. Even though the pond's owner asked them to throw back the fish they catch, most of the boys live in the city, so just the idea of fishing from a country pond has appealed immensely to the outdoorsman in each of them and the 'country life'/Southern heritage in their blood.

This evening proved no exception, and they announced that they were going fishing and anyone who wanted to could come along. The girls declined, saying that it would probably be muddy since it had rained earlier this morning, and they had no appropriate shoes.

So it was just three of us. I took a banana, an apple, and "Frank" (my camera. Yes, I named my camera. Don't laugh.), and the boys took a pole a piece and the tackle box. The field in front of The Grandparents house was almost knee-high in rich green grass (specially planted by our neighbor for the cows he raises) and we crossed half of it at a run. On the other side was the field that the pond was in. It hadn't been planted in the tall special grass, so we could just walk normally :) .

We climbed the gate and stopped talking as we approached the pond, so as not to scare the fish. The boys picked spots and cast their lines. I hadn't really intended to fish, but we'd been there for a few minutes and each of them had offered me their poles. 'Why not?' I thought. I hadn't fished in years. I'd cast once, reel in, and if I didn't get a bite, I'd give the pole back to my young cousin and could say I'd been fishing. I accepted, cast, and reeled in slowly. The hook was baited with one of those fancy rubber baits that looks like a little fish, and before I'd reeled in all the way, the first fish I'd caught in years was on my line. I'd never caught a fish on the first cast, ever!

It was beautiful. Not too big, not too small. A wonderful silvery gray, darkest on top, then fading to almost pearl-white underneath. I snapped a picture then got that hook out of it's lip as quickly and gently as I could, and tossed it back in (forgot to be gentle about that part. Sorry, fish.). My cousin had walked back up the pond, so I took him his pole and whispered a thank you. He seemed surprised and happy for me that I'd already caught one!

I'd spotted a group of three horses across the pond and saved my apple core for them. After returning the pole, I started around the pond towards them, hoping to get a few pictures before the evening became too dusky (the brown nose is the only edited photo).

We were supposed to be back to the house before dark. It would be dark in about a quarter of an hour, so I started back around the pond toward the boys to make sure they were keeping track of time. I didn't want them to have to wait on me.

The pasture and the dusk were so beautiful and soothing. I'm ashamed to say I hadn't been out there for years. I used to walk the fields for hours, thinking, praying, writing stories in my head and having my own adventures like the characters in the historical fiction books I soaked up. I guess I grew up. Got busy. Went to college. Started jobs. Had to cut out something, and building my own little imaginary world got bumped to the bottom of the totem pole.

I'd forgotten how much I missed the country. The silence that was filled with life. Crickets. Mocking birds and wrens and mourning doves. The wind in the grass. The whispered song of the leaves in the trees.

The bats were coming out and swooped over the pond, diving for the bugs that were attracted to the evening and to the water. When I got back to the boys, the younger one and I tossed pebbles into the air to see if they would dive for them, while the older boy conceded that he wasn't going to catch anything and gathered up his stuff.

I enjoyed the evening so much. Time with cousins I hardly ever get to see. Time outdoors, in the countryside I live in but hardly ever get to enjoy. Time with my Lord, Who is with me always.