gone fishin’

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Craving texture. The types of things that add interest and awe to even the most absurdly cliche summer day. Today was one of those days and I adored it.  I tagged along on a brief fishing trip that Jeff and Gracie took to Potter’s pond here in Red Wing. I mostly sat on a bench in the dappled sunlight, watched the dragon flies and took photos of the goings on from the shadows. Happy to be absorbed in yet another amazing, tragic novel…and even more delighted to not be impaling slimy worms on hooks.

Now my thoughts turn to making a huge batch of lavender rose simple syrup for our lemonade and tea while Jeff and Grace  come up with a plan for filleting some of the smallest fish I’ve ever seen. We invented a new phrase on the drive home… “Wishing for fish the size of Suburbans while catching one after the other the size of smart cars.” Funny. No?

I hear a kerfuffle in the kitchen. I’ve just been informed that our cat, Alice, the more adventurous one, has tipped the bucket of fish and all of their deliciously stinky water all over the kitchen floor.



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