End of summer drag

Today is the first day of August, which means that there are still a few weeks before school begins and the real monotony of the schedule takes over. Summer is still in full swing and there are plenty more days at the beach and the pool to be had. It is still hot, so steamy hot that eyeglasses fog over once you leave the house and you begin to sweat just thinking about how hot it's going to be once you open the front door. Your legs instantly stick to the car seats and the grass in your yard gave up its fight for growth a long time ago. The humidity gauge reads 70%, but I think that's a lie. It probably succumbed to the heat, too.

There are no school buses to dodge in the afternoons, no homework assignments to complete, and no lunches to pack in the wee hours of the morning. There is still plenty of time to binge watch Netflix shows for the third time and to sleep in after staying up late just because you can. Walmart has aisles of school supplies for sale at rock bottom prices, but you haven't even bothered to shop for them yet. The school year is weeks away, not tomorrow. Many days lay ahead in which to celebrate the glory that is summer vacation.

Yet when I awoke this morning, a feeling of something akin to dread was nibbling at my bones. Summer vacation IS almost over and the sense of impending doom is almost palpable. It's not that I hate school – I don't. As a school teacher, I enjoy my work and my students and the challenge that it is to edu-ma-cate them the best that I can. But summer...summer is sacred, you know? It never lasts long enough and I don't know of anyone who actually accomplishes everything on their summer to-do list. Sure, it's hot and muggy and air conditioning is a gift from the Lord, but come the those bitter winter winds of January, I don't hear anyone complaining about how hot summer was.

So here we are, dreading the end of summer as much as we are the beginning of the school year. My neighborhood is stocked with kids who are bored out of their minds, but not enough to wish that school would start back so soon. They would rather empty the dishwasher and vacuum the den than to sit at a desk all day or ride that cramped bus home. Anything but the end of summer.

But alas, the time is almost upon us. If you haven't yet gone fishing, pulled out the canoe, visited your aunt or uncle in the mountains, gone to see that movie, built a campfire on the beach, or simply sat on your porch listening to the crickets and the katydids, don't fret. You still have time. Don't worry, you will also have your weekends to check those things off of your list, too. And don't forget, college football starts back soon, which is proof that there is indeed a God who loves us.

Oh, and it's gonna stay hot at least through the month of September, so you've got that going for you as well.

Wrong bait? Who cares!

They didn’t catch a thing. In fact, I’m not even so sure they got so much as a nibble on those hooks baited with artificial top water frogs, probably not the best choice for luring bass in this pond. Although there are plenty of manmade retention ponds all around, natural freshwater spots aren’t all that common this close to the coast. Yet these less than ideal circumstances did not - could not - deter my son and his friend, along with my tag along daughter, from attempting to catch “the big one.”

Before we moved to the coast, we had unlimited access to a pond on the edge of our property that was swarming with fish, which included a giant elusive bass that we named Maximus. My brother, visiting from New York, purchased cheap rod and reel combos, effectively introducing fishing to my kids. The typical haul was a glob of algae covered grass or a tree limb on a wayward cast, yet every once in a blue moon one of them would hook a small brim or bass. Maximus, however, would remain unscathed, taunting us from the shallows as he leisurely swam amongst the reeds near the bank.

Last night was no different at this newly discovered fishing hole. Excited voices chattered about the “huge fish” they could see in the crystal clear water, yet dropping their hooks in the immediate vicinity yielded no success. Undaunted, they continued to fish off of the short pier, occasionally moving to the shallow banks, determined to hone their craft and technique even if their choice of bait was made their efforts futile.

I observed these scenes as I sat in a beach chair I had brought along, glancing up from my book every few seconds at the excited voices calling from the dock. Honestly, I did not want to take them out tonight. The temperature during the day had hovered in the mid-90’s and it was humid enough to melt

the chrome off of a bumper. But a slight breeze greeted us as we sat our gear on the bank and the gnarled trees offered enough shade to protect me from the sun’s blazing intentions. Katydids serenaded us from the bushes and thickets as families of geese swam just out of reach. 

Taking all of this in, I was reminded once again of the joys of summer through the mind and eyes of youth. Who wants to stay inside playing video games when you can spend hours trying to drop your hook in hopes of catching the big one? Sure, it’s hot, but it’s not constraining like the classroom will be starting at the end of next month.

Loaded down with gear, we hiked the trail back to the car as the sun was mercifully bidding us farewell behind the trees. The evening’s lack of success could not dampen the mood as they planned their next excursion, debating which baits and rigs would work best. Bottles of ice cold soda from the corner convenience store, well earned rewards after a hard fought evening of angling, tempered the moment and added a little more inspiration to the stories they would continue to tell into the night. Next time, they will catch dinner, they proclaimed. And I believed them because they promised me they would.