I’m at a loss of why time must intrude upon life and remind us all of days lost, months tramples, years killed. I hate that the days drive past me. I wake up and before I know it, fishing hour is upon me.  Ringo and I race to the lake, he settles into “bobber watching position”,   He knows what it means when the bobber moves and he is ready for his share. On Saturday when my son netted shiners, Ringo was right in the bucket looking for his share.   , in fact he will knock over that bucket if he thinks that he is not being treated fairly.  The other night I found the weirdest looking huge huge caterpiller that looked like it was from Scotland it was so perfectly plaid. I registered it on a bug site to see if anyone knew what it was:  It was very aggressive when I touched it with a twig and spun around to defend itself and spit green slime. You never know what you’re going to see around Florida! I have never seen anything like that thing.

The cranes usually come flying in to have a last look at the birdseed on the stump, or jump and dance, or lounge by the water,  

— love experimenting with their photos:  

The sky is always something I keep my eye on as birds travel and the clouds and the moon shift  positions and the colors fade out as the sun goes down…

Sometimes that moon is right overhead, sometimes it’s gone for days, I miss the dark nights without it’s beautiful presence.  
Osprey, anhinga, herons, woodstorks, and crane fly overhead.   A few days ago the heron came back as I fish.   That means that it is coming into mating season in the next few weeks. The herons are always around, but go away after their babies grow and fly off and don’t come around during the summer like they do all winter and spring. I enjoy the herons company,  and their ‘heron wars’, a subject in my older posts.  
If I catch a fish, it’s competition between Ringo and the heron. I have to be careful.

The BOB’s, band of brother mallard band mix are back, they flew in last night to claim the lake and act like the bullies they are, they snake their way through the lilypads until close to shore and go way around me because they know I am not a big fan of theirs.  

I haven’t caught many fish lately, not much has been catching, but the few days, the shiners have been on the line and a very instinctive bass has made quite a wake through the water grabbing my catch almost every time. The water level is very low, (no rain in 22 days) – can see the bottom of seawall, water is about 3 inches below it, losing an inch a day.  Ringo likes to jump down and watch the bobber closer to the water.   The bass attacks anything I catch on the line with bait. You can see it coming under the water and attack the bait, looks like a scene from Jaws, the slack water comes alive with a pattern headed for the hook. Sometimes I catch the bass on accident while fishing the smaller catches, the hook I use is miniscule, usually not big enough to hook a bass.
This am I take 3 pieces to the Historic Sanford Welcome Center to be in the “Wild Kingdom Exhibit”,  it will remain up for a month. I hope many of you will go to Fourth Friday at the end of the week so see all the photos. Here’s mine;   


It’s 7:30am, a new day to crash and burn, a week half way through, ‘Hump Day’, the hour is already flying as I sit down to write then look at the time and boom, minutes slaughtered for a keepsake one day on the internet.  Here it goes again.   Ah, life over the lake, days go away as fast as those birds lift their long feathers to fly by, in a blink they are out of sight,  how is one remembered when it’s all over? My grandchild,   will never know my grandparents, only the stories of what we tell her,  I have only glimpses of faded photos of my great grand parents, everything really kinds of fades to black as each new generation progresses.  What does it all mean and how does one leave their indelible mark upon all this, maybe I just did ?!    

Reason itself is fallible, and this fallibility must find a place in our logic. Nicola Abbagnano

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