After the Deluge

Our first storm is weathered, clean up has begun, and the weather turns hot with a pattern of afternoon showers just to keep us on our toes. All the so called experts say that we will indeed, have an above average active hurricane season. They say this every year, so sooner or later they'll be right. You can't fight it you just have to roll with it, with the rain the mosquitoes and yellow flies will be worse, the danger of forest fire will be lower.

Fishing has fallen into the doldrums, and I find myself fine tuning weapons for fall and looking forward to restocking the freezer. I also have thoughts of the islands and bone fish on the fly, the endless flats of Andros and the empty beaches where one might run around in Gods natural bathing attire, if so inclined. I re-read the writings of Hemingway, as I think of the busy crowd and drinking with close friends on Duval street, in the old town of Key West. A place where music is still performed live and troubadours ply their songs over beat up guitars, while sitting on a bar stools. I think that somewhere, there maybe someone, just waiting for me to read some of Ernie's best stories to, in some quiet well lighted place.  The reality though is siesta time is almost over here between the swamp and the sea, and I need to stop daydreaming of desire and turn my efforts back to storm clean up, and destroying the launching areas for the next mosquito hatch, I saw one the other day that had USN written on its body and blood dripping from its beak.

So, with that I close, a very worrisome red dog and I are about to brave the jungle of our yard and seek adventure.

Old Capt Sends