The Weather Has Broken

I think we endured more ninety-degree days this summer than I can ever remember. During these heat waves, I spent the bulk of my time in the air-conditioned “great indoors,” reading current thrillers or re-reading favorite fly-fishing books. Donna was hooked on the Olympics, but I watched very little of the televised coverage. Truth be told, I was just putting in my time till the weather finally moderated.

When it did, I was able to resume trout fishing. However, I was extremely careful that I did not fish in streams where the water temperature placed undue stress on the trout. Even releasing trout that are landed in water over 68 degrees is lethal for a high percentage of the fish that are returned to the water. It was not until we had several heavy rains, including the deluge from Hurricane Debby’s remains, coupled with cool August nights that I found stream temperatures in the range where carefully released trout would have no trouble thriving. After what was essentially a six-week layoff from fly-fishing, I was delighted to be back in action (especially since my basketball career has ended with an injury to my “good” knee. Unless I chicken out, I have decided to have my bad one replaced after this fall’s turkey season. Who knows what I will have to do with the so-called good one?)

Anyhow, to get back on track. Our evening drives have been much more enjoyable since the weather has moderated. We now roll down the windows of my pick-up truck, and Sage, Donna’s dog, can ride with her head out a window and sniff to her heart’s delight. Although the rabbits have performed their annual post-July 15 disappearing act (by becoming nocturnal), we have seen more deer out in the fields than we did during the heat waves. Most have appeared to be with growing fawns, several with twin fawns. We have spotted a few bucks. One was a magnificent buck with huge antlers. If a sportsman tags him, we will surely hear about it.

The late-summer wildflowers are blooming, too. Of these, I think the deep-purple asters are my favorite. There seems to be a lot of chicory and joe-pye weed along area streams this year.

Though they were beginning to chirp during the hot weather, the tree crickets and katydids are now making their evening racket. To listen to this, Donna, Sage, and I sometimes postpone our evening rides till after dark.

I am grateful the weather has broken so that my outdoor adventures are pleasant ones.