Go Fishing, After Mass

God never did make a more calm, quiet, innocent recreation 

than angling.  

Izaak Walton

With Walton's Compleat Angler in mind I went fishing, after Mass. It was good to stand on the bluffs overlooking Lake Whitney and cast off in the hope of big fish, though I was more in it for relaxation and quiet concentration than anything else.

Not knowing the water, I tried the shotgun approach, which means throwing in a variety of lures to see if anything works, in this case plastics, spinners, a silver spoon and a crankbait shad. No result with the plastic worms and the spoon got hung up as I bounced it off the bottom. Contrary to the spirit of Mr. Walton, I made a bit of a ruckus trying to unsnag the thing but no joy, the lure was stuck, so I cut the line. Just then, a large gray Catfish rose up from the depths and circled around and above the watery tomb of the spoon. It was like a baby shark, no fooling.

Compleat

This taught me that big Catfish live under the bluffs on that part of the lake and that they can and will be caught if I fish accordingly. Think positive, fisherman. After the spoon, I had a bit of action on the crankbait, which was partially hit by a Bass as it lured its way near the surface, but no strike and I called it a day.

Look. It's a Fish.

Just for kicks, I cast off in a shallow part of the water on the way to the truck, using a small green spinner. Why not? Maybe the fish will find it irresistible, I thought to myself, and sure enough, after a couple of casts a ferocious little Bass attacked the lure like a social justice warrior at a Trump rally. And that was that.

Fish on,

LSP

Get A New Roof, Go Fishing

It's building season here at the Missions, and part of that means new roofs on churches. So I tore myself away from the cut and thrust of US Presidential Race 2016 to see how the work was getting on. It was getting on just fine, in fact the crew were finishing up.

"Good work!" I told the Boss of the roofers and he told me it was all done bar the clean-up. We talked about the job for a little while and the helpful weather. Far better to be roofing in the mild springlike Texan winters than in, say, August. No fun to be up on a roof in 100++ degree temperatures. 

Someone's photo of Calgary from Scotchman's Hill

"Oh, we'd be here in August too," he assured me, and I'm sure they would. I told him about the Calgary roofers I know, up on the tall buildings in sub, subzero temperatures. "Cold!" the reverse of Texas but maybe harder. I respect that job.

Then we shook hands and he thanked me for the business and I headed for home, detouring by the lake for a bit of bank fishing. I cast away with a white shad crankbait and didn't catch anything, but it was fun trying. 

It was also fun to look at the limestone banks of the lake, with its fossilized wood, shells and vegetation frozen in stone, as though they'd been churned together in a great cataclysm. I reflected on that and the several "extinction events" that have overtaken life on earth. How was it possible, in the face of global die-offs, for life to reassert itself so abundantly? 

Metaphors for civilization and US democracy notwithstanding, I headed for home and meetings with yet more roofers, house painters and "tree service."

Mind how you go,

LSP