Summer days are met with much excitement and anticipation. Warmer weather, hours of daylight, friend and family gatherings to look forward to…
But in a flash – poof – they’re gone. Another collection of memories passing through a kaleidoscope.
It’s the season we long to savor. The one when we wish to bottle those special moments. And on the rare occasion, life slows down just enough to pause and delight in the fleeting before it fades.
As luck would have it, one of these episodes occurred on one fine evening in June. After a busy Sunday of church, visiting family and afternoon naps, we decided to bring back a family tradition and enjoy a night of fishing together.
For many years, we would make our annual fishing trip to Silver Lake to celebrate Mother’s Day weekend – often weathering storms or stopping by A&W in Emmetsburg for cheeseballs and a round of root beers.
But the inclement conditions didn’t stop us from making memories. I’ll never forget the summer we hunkered down in Clifford, the big red diesel truck, with our lines sticking out of the windows while my brother and I did homework in the backseat.
During our retreat from the pouring rain, Mom rescued the S’more stick and for years a sticky (and seemingly impossible to remove) marshmallow stain on the roof of the cab served as a reminder of our fishing adventures.
Returning to Familiar Waters
The night before our latest fishing outing, Jared, my fiancé, and I were tasked with sourcing the bait. Night crawlers have always been our fish treat of choice.
Due to the dry summer, Dad left out the sprinkler earlier in the day to help coax the creepy crawlers out. And by the light of our phone flashlights, we crept out to the wet spot near the barn before bedtime to gather what we could.
We almost forgot how quick night crawlers can be as they disappeared into the soft Earth under our clutches. But patience prevailed, and we managed to capture around 30 wriggly creatures. In the spirit of friendly competition, I might add, I caught nearly two-thirds of our total…not that anyone was counting.
Bait, tackle and a cooler of beer in tow, we found ourselves en route to Silver Lake the following day. We were lucky enough to score our favorite fishing spot, a little clearing where my Dad and his family always fished on free fishing weekend years before.
After a bit of finagling to get our ram shackle fishing poles back in working order, the first line was cast into the water. Mom received the honors of the inaugural cast, per tradition. Within seconds, she had one on the hook and the fishing fun began.
The summer night was made even better by the pink and lavender sunset painted across the sky. The calm lake created a mirroring effect of God’s glowing masterpiece over the still waters below.
And there it was…a fleeting moment to pause…cherish…savor. As we sat along the shoreline, we reminisced, recounted stories and all shared a good laugh as lines found their way into trees and fish fell off hooks at the last second.
Any errors were made up for by the number of fish we reeled in – catching and releasing almost 30 bullheads in all – not a bad ratio for the number of night crawlers we brought along.
As the last of the sunlight flickered across the horizon, we sank into lawn chairs around a warm, blazing fire, passing out Mike’s wieners and S’mores ingredients to roast, and staying up well past our usual Sunday bedtimes.
With our bellies and spirits full, we all climbed back into Clifford and made the return journey home singing along to ‘80s rock band music to conclude an already upbeat evening.
Now that’s a summer night I’ll never forget.