Pandemic practise does have it’s side benefits it seems, as a couple of enjoyable days spent with my lovely daughter demonstrated recently.
On the first day we visited my old fishing grounds and returned with a few nice pike fillets, which, after removing the fillets and the y-bones from the fillets, we put through the kitchen grinder and fried for fishburgers, one the most enjoyable pike feeds you can hope to attain in this life, btw.
And yesterday we took a run up to the mountains, crossed a ridiculously deep beaver dam and found a few beautiful blueberries, which, in spite of a seriously chilly and wet summer, seemed very nice and healthy, what few of them we found, that is. But, as is so often the case, the best benefit was not the harvest we hoped for, but instead the harvest of memories. Just little things like the blood-red mushrooms growing on the road, putting the truck underwater and barely crawling out the other side, pulling apart the beaver dam so we could return home, you know, stuff like that. You know what i mean.
So the summer is going by enjoyably enough. We’ve had a few local canoe trips to expedite, and missed one rather large local one which i only learned about near the completion of the trip, but can’t win ’em all, can you? And while i was not involved in that expedition, i got a major pile of work done on the yard and a great start on the winter’s woodpile. Sales will be brisk i am sure, if the summer’s temperature is any indication of what this winter will bring.
God bless and happy submarining wherever you may be!