Posts tagged ‘outdoors’
Here is Day Number 80…
Been out on a few late evening walks. Mostly downtown, since Salem is the happening place. Weather wise, it’s been nice. Yeah, it’s beginning, the whole September nippiness. I guess that’s actually a word. Not quite fall, but you can feel it starting to happen. It’s the same thing every year, however with us Oregonians it’s kind of a big deal, because we all love fall and we all hate to see summer go. If you’re from So Cal, then you have no idea what I’m even talking about.
They were all of insignificant size, but it didn’t really matter. Nothing more than a few hours of bliss, reeling in acrobatic cutthroat trout, enjoying those peculiar sounds where riffles and current combed over shallow uneven cobblestone beds. Choice of fly was none other than that of an Adams. Pure surface action, with every ounce of me engaged. Irritations melted away, drifted away, like those white pudgy columns patrolling the skies overhead. Each throw of line put the Adams on a different voyage, riding high on surface while moving shadows beneath kept a curious eye. Everything in their world, passing morsel or otherwise seemed always under strict surveillance. And then there was the familiar break, where surface split, and the Adams going bye-bye.
It’s depressing, hearing that Beau’s been lacking the ability for even the simplest of rise from trout in the Salem Ditch. It’s like he’s going soft, showing his son that it’s okay, totally acceptable to allow some hungry cutthroat trout not even five feet in front of him to get the very best of him. Way to roll, man. Do you need some soft hackles? Perhaps red tags? Maybe run home and let the cat out?
Why the long face?
Amanda and I had no problem on the Ditch. Sure, we dodged a few overbearing patches of gray, but we never had an issue with overbearing cutthroat or lingering rainbows.
Can you believe it? Look at that ladies and gents (mostly, hopefully ladies). Look at that ol’ boy, out on the bike, ripping it up, keeping it real. First day back out, it’s been over two months, and the back is feeling like its old self. Not bad, not bad at all.
Snapped with my worn iPhone.
Here’s a few spring fling photos. I’m going to create a new gallery, the “Spring Fling Photos 2013” gallery. Feel free to use them. How’s that sound? Peachy and good. There are some colors coming along down at the old park, blooming and splashing with April just at the corner. I was just about ready to leave, have me another stroll at the park, second one of the day (look at me, eh?), when the clouds above turned on their creaky faucets. Kind of dampened the whole idea, so I’ll be burning off the extra energy at the gym instead. Nothing new there.
Listening to Iggy Pop and James Williamson, mixed with the Seeds.
My station, it’s been on the airwaves for 65 years. Tomorrow is its last day, last day to air. No joke. I guess they’ve been bought out. That’ll be different, no more rare oldies. I’ll be stuck with a few other stations, a few other options, which have grown increasingly stale.
You think they had good tunes when this house was occupied? Cold winters, frost covered floors. Sauna summers in the kitchen, no quality fans, no ac. Probably playing records, “You turned the tables on me.” Benny Goodman version, 1937. Big band sounds. What a deal. Swing era in the dining room, while a late sun spilled gold on everything in sight. Laughter over lemonade, slightly spiked for good measure.
Cecil, Oregon. Being slapped by gusts of wind, ugly wind. And then it stopped for about five minutes. That’s all the time we had. We figured a few cups of java from the local store might help in regaining our rattled bearings, only to find that it was no longer in operation. And I’m talking about the store, although our brains were not far behind.