I had a nice hour or two out at our farm pond, fishing for bluegills. I love sitting quietly, listening the the birds and frogs and watching that bobber for the faint wiggle that means a fish is considering the bait on my hook. I caught a good number of fish, although I liberated each one and tossed it back to try and outsmart me again another day. Two of them were the biggest I’ve ever caught. These would be the ones who have survived four winters since they moved to the farm and are fat and happy in their underwater paradise. Here’s a blurry photo I took while balancing the fish on my tackle box and holding my phone with two fingers while touching the button with a third. It’s a miracle I snapped a shot at all before he flipped off the bench.
I heard a noise and glanced down at my feet. There was a shiny green bullfrog sitting in the water right next to me. He sat perfectly still in spite of my conversation with him and my attempt at a photo shoot. It seems he had me square in his sights, boldly unafraid of my reach. It was not until I shifted my weight that he did a quick backflip and disappeared with a flashing plop into the pond.
For me, it is a real luxury to break free from chores and spend an hour at the pond, just me and the fishies. Time stands still and my mind can wander wherever it wants. I often find myself thinking of my father and how his most blissful escape was to go out to the lake in his rowboat to fish for bluegills in the evening. I feel like he’s out there with me when I am at my little pond.