Please Go Away

Katherine Hepburn had a sign outside her Old Saybrook mansion that said Please Go Away. I didn't much care for the actress until I heard this. It's for sale - the house and the sign. Readers with a loose 28 mill should probably consider making an offer and I will come round to kayak, fish and swim without being disturbed.

Summer is boring. It's between fishing and hunting seasons. Kids have to be greased up and coaxed into cancer prevention suits. My lovely lawn is gradually turning to dusty parchment in a reverse-phenological sign that spells C.R.A.P. F.I.S.H.I.N.G.. Of course, all you must do is rearrange these letters. Until then stripers will be a fickle late-night species less inclined to shoreline feeding. The Culvert is a pipe carrying stagnant bait soup on either tide. They say even The Mighty Block has been devoid of meaningful fishing. And forget trout: the Farmington River is the best part of a 3 hour air-conditioned trip away for a shot at mostly small stockies. It's a beautiful place but I just don't have the energy for such limited payback, you know? You may also know my rule of thumb never to travel more than half a mile to fish for SMB, principally because I think they look like little jobbies with fins. So that rules out the Housie.

Thank goodness for beautiful C.A.R.P. Me and Anonymous went out early Sunday morning, mostly because we didn't know what else to do outside in 90+ degree heat. We found carp and had multiple shots at them, which was very exciting. It reminded me that carp are a good fish if you're a pair of anglers; while one guy fishes the other spots for cruising fish and gives hushed but mildly panicked advice like "Shit look at the size of him - medium pace from 11 O'clock"; "Leading cast two feet above"; "No you fool, that was hopeless"; "The fish have all gone and we'll have to stand for another 20 fruitless minutes. Did you bring me a cigar?" Most weren't feeding fish - asses up, lips down - but occasionally they did turn to our flies only to veer away. One slurped in my white bugger and gave quite an exciting fight on the springy Hardy 4# and 5lb nylon. I felt lucky to land the thing.

Here is a better photograph.

The morning was about more than catching, which it often has to be when you don't catch anything. We saw a family of deer at water's edge; a kingfisher flitted hither and yon; beautiful Nymphaea alba was in fragrant flower; and Anonymous and I should both seek medical intervention or start eating less fibrous foods as soon as feasibly possible. Alas, instead we finished fishing and went to a local greasy spoon for eggs, bacon, home fries, and something they called coffee but I would not. It was a really lovely summer morning.  

Local pond (As befits, Anonymous cannot quite be seen on the right)

White flower.

Now you've seen my pictures, so if you don't mind, until autumn, please go away. 

English