Well, it was slow starting, we had a cool spring, a lot of rain, and a lot of wind but it is now summertime. I’m a little sunburnt already. I’m tired from late nights on the lakes and I’m a little sore from wakes.
So yes, it’s summer. The lakes are crowded, the restaurants are busy, and the boat ramps are slammed – at least on the weekends. During the weeks we locals still get to play and fish without a lot of interference.
It’s time to discuss summer fishing.
The options are endless. I mean folks you can catch bass on top waters early in the morning, dragging Carolina rigs, pitching docks, doing dang near anything right now.
Crappie are being caught trolling and of course with Livescope over trees and under docks. Stripers/hybrids/ white bass are biting live shad, trolled three-way rigs, and mini-macks, and you find them busting nearly anything else you can throw at them!
Catfish are constantly eating my spoons and trolled crank baits right now. I know a lot of y’all are getting ready for the Brandon
Key Tournament as well. I expect to see some BIG numbers that weekend.
The next great thing about summer is fresh veggies. I mean come on – tomatoes, corn, cukes, zukes, peppers – oh my!
My wife’s garden is in and growing like wildfire right now. I cannot wait for her tomatoes and corn to come in. That’s my favorite time of year.
I mean I have a lot of family I won’t even feed this goodness too. She’s happy and that of course makes me happy. After all, as of the time I sat down to write this all bleary-eyed, tired, grumpy, and sore, she and I just celebrated 25 years of marriage.
Five kids and a quarter century behind us. Wow, what a ride folks. I never imagined reaching this point. I probably would have been nicer and taken better care of myself.
Here’s a short story for you. Back when I was a youngster my mom used to drag my sister and me to Camp Meeting at Smyrna Presbyterian church.
Now I have told you a lot about the ladies who acted as my aunts so often. But they all went to Camp Meeting. I mean all of them, seriously.
It was a great time but you would not believe the stuff we managed to get into. Well, maybe you would if you raised boys in the ’80s and ’90s in the deep south.
One time a group of my friends and I skipped out of the camp meeting and went mud-bogging. Oh, what excitement! That was a bubble that popped when we managed to bury my buddy's 1984 Ford Ranger pickup. Why in the world we thought it would make it through a mud hole that was probably deeper than we were tall I will never know. And sure enough, it didn’t; yet we tried.
In the end, all you could see was a thin sliver of the roof and when we made it back to the camp meeting, we were muddy, beaten, and tired.
Our parents were of course mad. Yet as the old saying goes, we were legends amongst our peers and of course, legends never die.