Beautiful scenery and a quiet river. . . when we returned to the launch ramp to leave, my husband, who took these photos, overheard some campers saying they caught some bass where we had been fishing. Oh well. . .
I cast my lure a little too far into the lagoon, but retrieved it successfully from the grass.
We returned to the Snake River’s Nisqually John area today, casting our lines in mid-river and in lagoons bounded by canyon walls. No takers, but we know Smallmouth are not extinct, because we saw a few jumping. The day began cold and cloudy, warming as the sun reasserted diurnal dominion.
Hells Canyon and the Snake River always reward our visits, with or without delivering up the River’s fish. Today’s special reward was the sight of Red Osier Dogwood blooming up a canyon wall.
Being indoors isn’t so bad when wind is blowing and a strange truck is parked outdoors right next to Effieland, while its driver installs new internet service inside. Effie generates her own serenity, and I gaze at the colors with her through a window, watching clouds converge and darken before a gathering storm.
We enjoy fishing, rain or shine, and whether or not we catch any fish. There have been only a few times that no fish preferred to leave their river and come home with us. But fall and summer are different seasons, and fish are known to change their routes and their behaviors with seasonal changes.
In summer, we routinely found fish willing to leave their river and come home with us. Now, their autumn attitude is to remain in their river where they are. That’s just fishing. Simply being out fishing on the river, from a boat or afoot on the shore, is agreeable whether or not fish come home with us, whether or not rain is falling, and whether or not other projects beg our time.
Today marks the third fishing Saturday in a row that no fish took an interest in our formerly enticing lures, even though the little spinning spoons were festive and colorful. Rain fell the entire time we were out. But after all, how can I blame them? What do the season-savvy piscines owe us?
Life has its consolations. We saw a wild ferret bounding into the tall grass and trees near the dock as we were putting in our skiff. The little sprinter was the first ferret I have ever seen in the wild. My husband fresh-canned the fish we caught over the summer, and still has a three-month supply. And I love it that Bob Dylan received the Nobel Prize in Literature.
My husband took all the photos in this post.
Intent on her feathered–and incredibly durable–mouse-on-a-stick, Effie prepares to shred her prey. Then, frustrated with her mouse’s resilience, she settles for a nap.
Although I have to say, she does look rather like a girl cat intent on her revenge, Mom having removed the toy to a safe haven. . .
My husband and I have determined our ISP to be up for replacement; no further comment. “Lousy” is the strongest descriptor I will use, although I am not unwilling to insert “Comprehensively” as a modifier before “lousy.”
We haven’t watched either presidential debate, but from the news coverage, I wish the media would cover it up more deeply, like out of sight entirely. I’m too easily tempted to watch the invective duel, even though it is a spiritual pathogen. At least with swords, one or at most two people are hurt; with guns one is likely to be killed. Invective duels may wound the spirits of hundreds of millions of people. I remain NOVOFOP (Not Voting For President), a depressing prospect, but necessary for me.
Closer to the upside, I am having an MRI of my elbow Tuesday. The pleasant woman who called today to confirm my appointment asked whether I weighed more than 350 pounds, the limit of the MRI’s capacity. I couldn’t help laughing as I replied that I actually weigh under 100.
My right elbow was injured in an auto collision in March. The pain has been fairly constant and limiting, and I decided it was time to get it diagnosed, as my doctor has repeatedly suggested. It seems disinclined to heal on its own after seven months, and I want to know what I’ll be living with. One doctor, a pain specialist, suspects a deep tear in a tendon that he says would “require” surgery. No it wouldn’t. There is no compulsory surgery in this country. If I just know what I’m dealing with, I can deal with One More Thing.
Frustration is part of life. Even carefree Effie has her own coping mechanisms, like sharpening her claws on my shin. I don’t know whether she has frustrations, or, if she does, what they are, but she definitely has a good grip. And, like me, she is loved, and she really has it pretty good. ^-.-^
In these past three posts, Effie proves that for some truly superior lifeforms, floors are most definitely over-rated, if not entirely unnecessary.