“The sky broke like an egg into full sunset and the water caught fire.”
–Pamela Hansford Johnson
The busy holidays had settled down and we were struggling to reclaim our regular schedules.
Being retired, Sam has no schedule, and though he enjoyed the holidays, he looked forward to waking and deciding whether it was a good day for fishing or not — and if it were, would he go fishing … or not.
The walkway to the small dock needed repairing after heavy rains and flooding, but that could wait. He had already taken down the outside Christmas lights and put away the wreaths. The Christmas tree he had so carefully selected a month ago was now stripped and lay bare in the woods for some small creature seeking shelter from wind or foe.
And so, about every other day Sam has taken off on scouting missions to find fish. To know a fisherman is to understand it’s not just about fishing … it is learning the fish. Sam talks fish, especially crappie, “like one knows the back of his hand,” as they say.
He notes water temperature, flow, color, weather patterns and seasonal changes. Everything is taken into account and then, sometimes spoiling it all is the unpredictability of nature.
Often after I’ve been to town Sam will ask, “Did you look at the river? What was the color like?”
Invariably I will say, “I’m sorry. I didn’t look. You know I really can’t tell the color of the water.”
I really can’t. Perhaps standing at the water’s edge I could see if the water was clear and I could see fish, or if it was muddy and I cannot see anything. For someone so well acquainted with water, Sam can’t imagine not knowing the color of water. Yet, he remains hopeful.
As for me, I’ve returned to preparing plain and simple meals. Soup is always good in winter. A friend asked for my soup recipe. I sent her the website for Bear Creek Soups. Sometimes I do make a vegetable soup by throwing in some pot liquor and leftover vegetables. It’s really hard to beat the Bear Creek mix. The directions are to add water and heat. For the chicken noodle I do put in a whole can of white chicken meat.
With the slowing down of comings and goings at the Prairie house I’ve been better able to attend to the ducks, rabbits and goldfish as well as the plants, the poinsettias, chard, parsley, kale and all in the greenhouse, not to mention Harry and Wilhelmina, the kittens in the house.
It was one evening late when I rushed to the lake to feed the ducks their corn and bread. I’ve also been feeding the bream and have quite a large following.
At the lake, the banks were overfull, but the water was still as a glass mirror. I saw the fiery sunset reflected on the water, stretching from edge to edge. The water was clear and the whole world lay before me, quiet and still.
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