Fishing (and other) adventures, part II.

Three generations of my family had the same thing in mind today. Ever since word had spread that the creek (pronounced 'crick' please) had been restocked with trout twice this past week, my dad and husband were itching to go fishing.

I won't lie to you. Things got off to a slow start.

So slow that I studied bait. For a long time.

I studied Daddy-long legs too.

And fishing positions.
After getting only one bite, we decided to change fishing spots.
Upstream we went. Along the way, I got distracted with flowers and bees.

And more flowers.


Luckily I caught up with the fishermen in time to watch all the excitement. Sam reeled in a small rainbow trout but refused to touch it once it was off the line.


Will then caught a fish that was so small, I wondered if
he should just keep it on the line to use as future bait.

He then decided to look for snails and other creek life.

Finally someone made the call. Let's head home and get some dinner.

Along the way, I got distracted again.

This seems to be a recurring problem for me.

I love buttercups.

And dandelions.

I realize they're weeds, but I think they're dreamy.

~

Unfortunately, this is where my post gets ugly. Viewers should be advised. Small children and adults with weak stomachs should stop reading and look away.

You see, when my dad and husband have too much down time together, they start scanning the fields for critters. Mostly of the groundhog sort. Once the hunting rifle appears, it's all down hill from there. Well, downhill, if you're a groundhog and you're dumb enough to stand when people whistle at you. Let's just say the men enjoyed a little target practice tonight.

While 200 pound lap-dog Boomer snuggled with my dad, Dave and the kids headed down to the field to make sure all was quiet. (Answer: Yes it was). When they returned, Sam described the groundhog's expression.

That's about how I looked too.

~

Now tell me about your Sunday. How was it?