Scotland, the Caithness coast, specifically the fishing village of Clyth. It is the evening of January 26th, 1876. A dark chill evening. No breeze, but grassed slopes that tilt to the cliff edge, wear a veil of frost. A shadowed sea heaves, gently slapping at the rocky shore. Waiting. A single roomed fishing hamlet, no different from several scattered along the cliff tops, shelters a girl, three years old, her one-year ol...
“Mermaids, Kelpies, Harpies,” he muttered. “Superstitious fools.” The old fisherman was motoring his dory out of the harbor. “They blame the lack of skill on make believe creatures.” Fishing had been down recently. Soon the fisherman had his 200 hook line baited and laid out. He laid back under a tarp and the stars to sleep. Waking, he started to retrieve the line. A club in hand ready to dispatch the fish, but most h...
Dancing to Ray Charles: Ch 07, S8ummer Inactivities “I guess it’s about time we had that little talk.” Jake Cahill stood in the doorway to the crowded laundry room, watching his son pull clothes from the dryer.“Oh, I already know all about that stuff,” said Mark. “The stork brings the babies and leaves them under a cabbage leaf.”“So that’s how it’s done. And all this time I thought Doc Miles brought them in his little bl...
The ranch was an isolated place but that didn't mean we lived in total isolation while I grew up ranch. We had many visitors from far and near who enriched our lives in many ways.Often it was a family who came bringing with them the whole family including kids. Our Fox cousins from Denver were particularly fun to entertain. They, of course, wanted to ride the horses and ponies. After an hour or so of that, a nice cool off...
'twixt the moorland villages of Clapptrap and Skandal, there runs a lovely stretch of the Twaddle. The lively river flows through the limestone gorge at Poppycock Cut, and once past Yakking Mouth it discharges its clear waters in spectacular fashion at Fayrelady Falls. Tis a sight for sore eyes to behold such wild, foaming torrents - I courted my dear wife there and it's a good spot for trout.I usually commence fishing at...
Fishing with Miguel By DiVitto KellyTwo men approached the dock, both looking suspicious and twitchy. If not for the forty thousand dollars stashed in their avocado green vinyl suitcase, they could be perceived as vagrants. The taller man leading the way had receding silver blond hair and sported a two week-old peppered beard. The other, a past his prime weightlifting type, must have had a prolonged encounter with a tanni...
Fishing the Assunpink One of my favorite times of the year when I was younger was, no surprise, summer. School was out: I didn’t have to worry about homework, grades, or any projects for at least two glorious months. Since both of my parents worked, my parents had an arrangement with my maternal grandparents. My mother would drop my brother and me off at their house in the morning, then make the 10 minute commute to Merce...
WHAT SUMMER MEANS TO ME Summer means no school. Summer means having to mow your yard instead of going fishing or swimming. And to make matters worse, my tightwad father don't hardly pay me a thing for all that work. He claims riding around on a John Deere for a couple of hours isn't some kind of cruel and unusual punishment. And he also says he won't pay me time-and-a-half for hazardous duty. Someday I’m going to turn him...
My Grandpa guarded the sacred places from whites. He had a badge shaped like an arrowhead. There was a line across the road that stopped trucks. Cars couldn't get there, because the road was too rough. We only stayed in June, July and August because winter guarded the sacred sites the rest of the time. If someone didn't want to listen to my frail old Grandpa, when he told them they couldn't enter, then he let them pass. H...
My father passed away about a year ago and so I was now alone in my house for my mother had walked out from us many years ago when I was only a child of five. The reason for that, my father told me later, was because of him being caught getting another woman pregnant. After an awful row, she had left us, leaving father to raise me on his own. It was disappointing not to have my mother around but he looked after me well...
My Grandpa is a little Native American man. He flyfishes and has a wicker kreel and waders. He was fishing in the Jocko River. A black bear came down the trail and stopped and sniffed one of my grandfather's footprints. The bear spent a lot of time sniffing the track. Then he moved to the next footprint and sniffed it for a few minutes. Grandpa gathered up his gear quietly. The bear moved to another track, and sniffed and...
A few months after their wedding, two friends of mine went fishing. They anchored in a shady spot for lunch and, being young and in love, one thing led to another. I've no idea about the fishing that day, but nine months later there was indisputable proof something had been caught. The location for this amorous activity was Fool's Bayou, honest. After hearing that story, I wondered how the bayou's various native life form...
It was the wettest day of the year. The rain splattered down, thumping into the proud roses until they drooped their newly-humbled heads, forcing the baby bees to stay at home and swarm all over each other until their fathers gave them short, stinging slaps and told them to settle down. It was, it must be said, a day for fishing.But the poor old Magic Dragon, in his many, many travels, far and wide and back again, had onl...
