Catching the big one

During these waning days of warm weather, my husband is trying to get in all the fishing he possibly can.

Besides, the water is cold now, says he. And the fish are at their best for eating.

So most of these autumn afternoons, especially late in the afternoon, you can find him down on the dock, wetting a line. Sometimes the neighbors, also avid fishermen, join him.


It is fun for me to just watch them. I try to imagine their conversation. That is, if there is any...

The pros and cons of live bait. Wax worms versus leeches. Sucker minnows. Lindy rigs and bobbers. Tales of past fish caught. How much the big one fought the line. The struggle to reel him in.

At any rate, it's nice to see them enjoy each other's company and their mutual passion. To see them relaxing together and bonding; if, indeed, men do that.

A few days ago, George caught "the big one." A 12-plus-pound Northern.
And, wouldn't you know, there was nobody around to see it. I had gone to do some errands, and it didn't seem anyone nearby was home.
So he brought the fish up to at least snap a photo of it before he released it back into the lake.

He had to walk around the condo and to the end of the hall to finally find a neighbor, Bea Nelson, at home. She readily agreed to come take a picture. He could hardly wait to tell me about it when I returned home. I really wished I had been here to share in his excitement. And, of course, to see this big fish.

Yup, these days are coming to an end. Soon it will be too chilly and the remaining portion of the dock will be pulled ashore. The lake will begin to freeze. The fishing equipment will reluctantly be stored with a sigh.

And my husband will dream his sweet dreams of next year's fishing. Can he top an 11-pound Northern?

In his dreams, I bet he can!

The wisdom of the seasons

The leaves on the tree outside my window are gently falling as I write.


The chrysanthemums and marigolds are in full bloom. Front porches on my street are decorated with pumpkins, gourds and bales of hay. A basket of sweet honey crisp apples adorns my kitchen counter.

It is autumn. In all its splendor.

The seasons are wise. Either they follow the signals of our bodies, or we follow them. Whichever the case, there is harmony in honoring each season.

For example, we seem to come alive in the springtime. The sun warms the earth, and the days grow longer. Flowers bloom, trees bud, there is color everywhere, and love is in the air. We are energized.

Summer brings a combination of adventure and a bit of laziness. Lounging on beaches, sipping lemonade, planning vacations or weekend get-aways. Parades, town festivals, barbecue grilling and dining on outdoor patios, S'mores at dusk, fireworks.

Winter is often dreaded where I live in Minnesota. Icy roads cause treacherous driving conditions, and our entire wardrobes are based on layers of sweaters, coats, boots, scarves, mittens.

But the beauty of freshly fallen snow, frosty window panes, and snow settled on evergreen branches is magnificent. It's time for fireplaces, cocoa, marshmallows, afghans. There isn't a better time for knitting or scrapbooking, stitching, or curling up with a good book.

Since I am a spring and summer lover, I always looked at autumn as the end of things; a signal that winter was approaching. In Minnesota, it can be a very long winter. For ski lovers and snowmobilers, it is most welcome. But not for me.

Then a friend very poetically told me that the real beauty of autumn, aside from its glorious colors of red, oranges and yellows, lies in the earth's ability to rest. And to know rest is needed. Like every living thing. Like everybody.

Now, when I see the leaves gently falling from the trees, I look at the bare branches and think: rest, o weary one. You have endured wind, rain and sun to provide shade. You've provided birds a place to nest, squirrels a place to climb, and a place for them to get nutrients to sustain life. And you have shared with us the beauty of your greenery.

And it gives me permission to rest. To wind down a bit. To prepare myself for yet another year of seasons. To start over again.

All of the seasons are refreshing and new each time they come around in their cycle. I think it is a marvel.

Wherever you are in this world, whatever your season: pause and enjoy. Each season. Each day.