Oh how my girls are growing! Today, my middle granddaughter graduated from pre-K. Her learning journey has just begun and I can't wait to see her inquisitive little mind develop and grow. Of course she is smart, being my granddaughter, but now we will watch and wait for the twists and turns her little mind takes.
My oldest granddaughter turned 8 on Friday. Growing much too fast for Nanna, she is growing into quite a young lady. Demure and quiet, she will astound you with her voracity when provoked. Looking very elegant and poised she can climb at tree, hike, and tussel with the best of them and then grab her fishing pole ready to bring in the big one.
My grandson, now 12 is changing rapidly. Not only is his facial features becoming more refined, his mind is working differently as his body is growing. So proud of the young man he has become!
My youngest is the joy of all of them, as she still has enough baby to drive you crazy, but filled with love and happiness that will melt your heart. She absorbs everything the three older ones say or do. She has my temper and will throw a fit in a minute, then fling her little arms around your neck and make you do exactly what she wants.
I am so enjoying my grandchildren this weekend, but while they are fishing and camping, I wanted to share a minute with you. My wish for all is a fun filled happy Memorial Day. I thank each of you who served in our armed services for the part you have played in keeping our country free and safe. To the families that have lost a loved one in service, I wish for you peace in the knowledge that your loved one gave themselves for the freedom and rights of others.
Happy Memorial Day to All!
Belle
Showing posts with label fishing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fishing. Show all posts
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Monday, July 27, 2009
Ode to the Nipper Diddy
Floating along on the small lake, I had a couple of bream poles in the water and Hubby, he was casting for that big bass. Fishing from the canoe was not our favorite way to fish, but the trolling motor on the jon boat was dead and the fish were calling. We had to answer that call and the canoe provided the means.
We had just about given up on the big boy hitting the pumpkin seed worms Hubby was using and the bream didn't like my red wigglers. Hubby changed to his and my favorite - the frog colored nipper diddy. If the bass was going to hit, it would hit Mr. Nipper Diddy! I had given up on fishing and I was easing the boat slowly along the shore. Enjoying the coolness of the shade from the overhanging trees, I moved the canoe quietly along. Hubby jerked his rod and my regular question was "did you get him?" "Nope, but I will this time!" "Come on, big boy, hit it again." He cast again into the shadows and that big ole bass flipped Mr. Nipper Diddy off his tail and right back at the canoe. Frustrated and determined, Hubby once again dropped the plug right in the shadows, and once again the bass rolled over and flipped the plug right back at us.
It was definitely time to go home. We had worn out our welcome and we were sure the call had gone out over the lake to ignore the two in the canoe.
Hubby and I have caught many a fish on a frog colored nipper diddy. They don't make these wonderful lures anymore, but they sure provided a lot of fun and excitement.
We had just about given up on the big boy hitting the pumpkin seed worms Hubby was using and the bream didn't like my red wigglers. Hubby changed to his and my favorite - the frog colored nipper diddy. If the bass was going to hit, it would hit Mr. Nipper Diddy! I had given up on fishing and I was easing the boat slowly along the shore. Enjoying the coolness of the shade from the overhanging trees, I moved the canoe quietly along. Hubby jerked his rod and my regular question was "did you get him?" "Nope, but I will this time!" "Come on, big boy, hit it again." He cast again into the shadows and that big ole bass flipped Mr. Nipper Diddy off his tail and right back at the canoe. Frustrated and determined, Hubby once again dropped the plug right in the shadows, and once again the bass rolled over and flipped the plug right back at us.
It was definitely time to go home. We had worn out our welcome and we were sure the call had gone out over the lake to ignore the two in the canoe.
Hubby and I have caught many a fish on a frog colored nipper diddy. They don't make these wonderful lures anymore, but they sure provided a lot of fun and excitement.
Monday, June 15, 2009
Fishing With Granddaddy
At least once a week Granddaddy would take me fishing except in the winter. Granddaddy didn't like to get cold. He was such a tall man, but skinny as a rail. I always thought he needed some fat on him to warm him up.
We never fished with a rod and reel. I never knew whether that was because he couldn't afford them or whether he just like a cane pole. He sure had a lot of cane poles though. We never fished from a boat, but we hit every creek and farm pond around. I always wondered how Granddaddy chose where we would be fishing. I realized as I got older it depended on the weather. If it was gong to be a scorcher, we hit the creek bank; mild weather always found us on the pond bank. Usually there are no trees around a farm pond to provide shade until late in the afternoon. Granddaddy liked to leave out mid-morning and fish until mid-afternoon.
In early spring we set the corks for 2-3 feet deep and in the middle of summer the corks were set 4-6 feet to reach the cooler waters. Sometimes it was so hot you couldn't get the corks deep enough. The fish stayed low to keep cool on the real hot days.
His favorite bait was red wigglers and crickets. I preferred meal worms and grubs. We both had about the same luck so it didn't matter which bait we used. Either one was great for catching bream. If we were real lucky Granddaddy would get his hands on some catalpas. They make the best bait in the world for catfish. I know we fished with chicken hearts and livers, too, but the catalpas weren't as messy unless they had been frozen. When Granddaddy froze catalpas, he put some fruit fresh in the water with them and this kept them from turning black. When they were thawed for use, we would turn them inside out with a wood match and place them on the hook. Catfish really liked them this way. Catfish must like yucky stuff, but we sure caught a lot of them on the catalpas. Once in a while a big old bass would hit a catalpa and Granddaddy would get all excited.
Granddaddy tried taking my little sister with us, but that just got on his nerves. It stopped when we were fishing on the creek bank and she started yelling and splashing. Granddaddy and I took off running. She had gotten about 50 feet below us in the woods and was in the water. Granddaddy pulled her out and wanted to know how she got there. She said a big fish pulled her in the water. Well, that didn't fly. Her pole was broken and the line with cork, weight and hook was rapped around a tree limb over our heads. It was time to head for home. The fish were definitely not going to bite now and Granddaddy was plenty perturbed with baby sister.
I have fallen in many a creek and pond, but only after granddaddy said we ought to rap it up. Riding home wet, with the windows down was just about the best feeling in the world.
Many years later, I lived in south Georgia. Granddaddy came to visit and I took him fishing. I had rods and reels, no cane poles and he looked a little disappointed in me. We traveled down to Twin Lakes and out on the pier we went with our folding chairs, crickets, and red wigglers. Granddaddy handled that rod and reel like it was all he had ever fished with, but I knew better. He was just determined I wasn't going to get the best of him. Granddaddy and I always had an unspoken competition going - nothing hurtful, just a fun to keep us focused on our fishing.
All afternoon we fought the bugs and heat. No place in the world has more biting critters than Valdosta and there is nowhere as hot and humid. We fished for a couple of hours and Granddaddy was ready to go. We were going to have find a creek with some shade or leave earlier in the morning. We did catch some fish for supper though it was not a good time.
Yep, can't remember having as much fun and feeling as much at peace as I did fishing with Granddaddy. We didn't talk much, but we liked it that way. Nope, nothing much more peaceful than sitting on a creek bank watching that cork bob along. And nothing more exciting than pulling in the fish. I sure do miss Granddaddy - I wonder if they have creek banks in heaven. I sure hope so.
We never fished with a rod and reel. I never knew whether that was because he couldn't afford them or whether he just like a cane pole. He sure had a lot of cane poles though. We never fished from a boat, but we hit every creek and farm pond around. I always wondered how Granddaddy chose where we would be fishing. I realized as I got older it depended on the weather. If it was gong to be a scorcher, we hit the creek bank; mild weather always found us on the pond bank. Usually there are no trees around a farm pond to provide shade until late in the afternoon. Granddaddy liked to leave out mid-morning and fish until mid-afternoon.
In early spring we set the corks for 2-3 feet deep and in the middle of summer the corks were set 4-6 feet to reach the cooler waters. Sometimes it was so hot you couldn't get the corks deep enough. The fish stayed low to keep cool on the real hot days.
His favorite bait was red wigglers and crickets. I preferred meal worms and grubs. We both had about the same luck so it didn't matter which bait we used. Either one was great for catching bream. If we were real lucky Granddaddy would get his hands on some catalpas. They make the best bait in the world for catfish. I know we fished with chicken hearts and livers, too, but the catalpas weren't as messy unless they had been frozen. When Granddaddy froze catalpas, he put some fruit fresh in the water with them and this kept them from turning black. When they were thawed for use, we would turn them inside out with a wood match and place them on the hook. Catfish really liked them this way. Catfish must like yucky stuff, but we sure caught a lot of them on the catalpas. Once in a while a big old bass would hit a catalpa and Granddaddy would get all excited.
Granddaddy tried taking my little sister with us, but that just got on his nerves. It stopped when we were fishing on the creek bank and she started yelling and splashing. Granddaddy and I took off running. She had gotten about 50 feet below us in the woods and was in the water. Granddaddy pulled her out and wanted to know how she got there. She said a big fish pulled her in the water. Well, that didn't fly. Her pole was broken and the line with cork, weight and hook was rapped around a tree limb over our heads. It was time to head for home. The fish were definitely not going to bite now and Granddaddy was plenty perturbed with baby sister.
I have fallen in many a creek and pond, but only after granddaddy said we ought to rap it up. Riding home wet, with the windows down was just about the best feeling in the world.
Many years later, I lived in south Georgia. Granddaddy came to visit and I took him fishing. I had rods and reels, no cane poles and he looked a little disappointed in me. We traveled down to Twin Lakes and out on the pier we went with our folding chairs, crickets, and red wigglers. Granddaddy handled that rod and reel like it was all he had ever fished with, but I knew better. He was just determined I wasn't going to get the best of him. Granddaddy and I always had an unspoken competition going - nothing hurtful, just a fun to keep us focused on our fishing.
All afternoon we fought the bugs and heat. No place in the world has more biting critters than Valdosta and there is nowhere as hot and humid. We fished for a couple of hours and Granddaddy was ready to go. We were going to have find a creek with some shade or leave earlier in the morning. We did catch some fish for supper though it was not a good time.
Yep, can't remember having as much fun and feeling as much at peace as I did fishing with Granddaddy. We didn't talk much, but we liked it that way. Nope, nothing much more peaceful than sitting on a creek bank watching that cork bob along. And nothing more exciting than pulling in the fish. I sure do miss Granddaddy - I wonder if they have creek banks in heaven. I sure hope so.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Just Like Granpa Taught Him
It was too hot now and he was hungry. Johnny had fished most of the afternoon - which he considered all day. A few small bream had nibbled at his bait, but they were too small to keep anyway. He pulled his cane pole in to check his bait and decided to move his cork up a bit and put on a fresh worm. If the water was anywhere near as hot as the air around him, the fish would go deep to cool off and he needed to be ready. Grandpa taught him that.
He slid further down the red dirt bank and sat on its cool moist dirt. He would love to just slide on in the water and forget the fishing. He pulled his cap down lower on his forehead and leaned back, just like Grandpa use to do.
Johnny sure wished Grandpa could go fishing with him now. They had been fishing buddies forever and had sure caught some good ones. Grandpa was kind of rough on him sometimes especially when he did dumb stuff like swishing the water with his pole or getting his hook caught in the tree limb. Grandpa was all business when it came to fishing. But Johnny had grown up a lot and he remembered what Grandpa had taught him. Grandpa couldn't make it down to the pond anymore since he had his stroke, but Johnny always filled him in on the fishing when he got back to the house. It made Grandpa smile that funny sad smile and sometimes he would laugh. Sometimes Johnny exaggerated a little to make Grandpa smile even more.
Johnny was sure feeling good sitting there in the cool dirt and thinking about Grandpa and fishing. His pole jumped, it sure did! Johnny sat up straight. Grandpa said you had to pay attention. The big one could hit at anytime. There it was again, but Johnny was ready this time and set the hook. He had him! It had to be a big one, that pole was bent almost in half. Johnny let him play the line, just like Grandpa said to do, and then started working him to the bank. He was holding on with all his might. Oh Boy! He wouldn't have to exaggerate this time. It was probably the biggest fish to ever come out of this old pond!
The catfish swam to the top and gave Johnny a good look at him. Johnny couldn't believe it. It was huge! And then something happened; he was gone. the line went limp, the pole straightened out and the big catfish was gone. Johnny almost wanted to cry. The line was flying in the breeze with no cork, no weight, no hook and NO fish.
Johnny grabbed his tackle box and headed across the dam up to the field. Grandpa wouldn't believe him, but he had to tell Grandpa so he could tell him what he had done wrong. Johnny's heart was so heavy he couldn't look up, he just shuffled along in his old tennis shoes and headed home. Johnny knew what was wrong, but he didn't want to think about it. That fishing line had been on that pole all through last summer and now half this summer. He hadn't wanted to take the time to change the line and put on a new hook and look what he missed. If had not been in such a hurry to get to the pond he would be bringing home a huge fish and a good story.
As Johnny got closer to home, he decided not to tell Grandpa about this fish. There was no need in both of them being downhearted. He would save it for another time when he was bringing home a catch and besides he didn't want Grandpa to know he hadn't taken care of his gear.
Grandpa was waiting on the back porch like Johnny knew he would be. He just smiled as Johnny walked by and said "better luck next time." Johnny shuffled past Grandpa and put his pole in the rack. "Yeah, it was really too hot this afternoon. I shouldn't have even gone down there early."
Johnny had been real quiet since coming in from fishing and Grandpa was pretty sure he knew what had happened. At the supper table Grandpa asked Johnny, "How big was it?"
"How big was what, Grandpa?"
"The fish that broke that line on your pole, how big was it?"
Johnny hadn't even thought about fixing his pole and he knew Grandpa noticed everything. "Grandpa that was the biggest fish I ever saw in that pond or any pond around here." And the story was told and re-told until bedtime and Grandpa didn't say one word about the old line on the pole. Grandpa knew Johnny was hurt over losing the fish and he also knew Johnny needed to put new line on the pole.
The next morning, Johnny found Grandpa on the back porch with Johnny's pole in his hand. Grandpa had put on new everything and it was ready to go again. Johnny put his arms around Grandpa and laid his head on his shoulder. Johnny didn't have to Grandpa he loved him or thank him for fixing up his pole or how much he missed him going to the pond with him - Grandpa knew, but Johnny told him anyway.
Late that afternoon Johnny headed back to the pond with his heart set on the big catfish. He wouldn't lose him this time; he would bring him in just like Grandpa taught him.
He slid further down the red dirt bank and sat on its cool moist dirt. He would love to just slide on in the water and forget the fishing. He pulled his cap down lower on his forehead and leaned back, just like Grandpa use to do.
Johnny sure wished Grandpa could go fishing with him now. They had been fishing buddies forever and had sure caught some good ones. Grandpa was kind of rough on him sometimes especially when he did dumb stuff like swishing the water with his pole or getting his hook caught in the tree limb. Grandpa was all business when it came to fishing. But Johnny had grown up a lot and he remembered what Grandpa had taught him. Grandpa couldn't make it down to the pond anymore since he had his stroke, but Johnny always filled him in on the fishing when he got back to the house. It made Grandpa smile that funny sad smile and sometimes he would laugh. Sometimes Johnny exaggerated a little to make Grandpa smile even more.
Johnny was sure feeling good sitting there in the cool dirt and thinking about Grandpa and fishing. His pole jumped, it sure did! Johnny sat up straight. Grandpa said you had to pay attention. The big one could hit at anytime. There it was again, but Johnny was ready this time and set the hook. He had him! It had to be a big one, that pole was bent almost in half. Johnny let him play the line, just like Grandpa said to do, and then started working him to the bank. He was holding on with all his might. Oh Boy! He wouldn't have to exaggerate this time. It was probably the biggest fish to ever come out of this old pond!
The catfish swam to the top and gave Johnny a good look at him. Johnny couldn't believe it. It was huge! And then something happened; he was gone. the line went limp, the pole straightened out and the big catfish was gone. Johnny almost wanted to cry. The line was flying in the breeze with no cork, no weight, no hook and NO fish.
Johnny grabbed his tackle box and headed across the dam up to the field. Grandpa wouldn't believe him, but he had to tell Grandpa so he could tell him what he had done wrong. Johnny's heart was so heavy he couldn't look up, he just shuffled along in his old tennis shoes and headed home. Johnny knew what was wrong, but he didn't want to think about it. That fishing line had been on that pole all through last summer and now half this summer. He hadn't wanted to take the time to change the line and put on a new hook and look what he missed. If had not been in such a hurry to get to the pond he would be bringing home a huge fish and a good story.
As Johnny got closer to home, he decided not to tell Grandpa about this fish. There was no need in both of them being downhearted. He would save it for another time when he was bringing home a catch and besides he didn't want Grandpa to know he hadn't taken care of his gear.
Grandpa was waiting on the back porch like Johnny knew he would be. He just smiled as Johnny walked by and said "better luck next time." Johnny shuffled past Grandpa and put his pole in the rack. "Yeah, it was really too hot this afternoon. I shouldn't have even gone down there early."
Johnny had been real quiet since coming in from fishing and Grandpa was pretty sure he knew what had happened. At the supper table Grandpa asked Johnny, "How big was it?"
"How big was what, Grandpa?"
"The fish that broke that line on your pole, how big was it?"
Johnny hadn't even thought about fixing his pole and he knew Grandpa noticed everything. "Grandpa that was the biggest fish I ever saw in that pond or any pond around here." And the story was told and re-told until bedtime and Grandpa didn't say one word about the old line on the pole. Grandpa knew Johnny was hurt over losing the fish and he also knew Johnny needed to put new line on the pole.
The next morning, Johnny found Grandpa on the back porch with Johnny's pole in his hand. Grandpa had put on new everything and it was ready to go again. Johnny put his arms around Grandpa and laid his head on his shoulder. Johnny didn't have to Grandpa he loved him or thank him for fixing up his pole or how much he missed him going to the pond with him - Grandpa knew, but Johnny told him anyway.
Late that afternoon Johnny headed back to the pond with his heart set on the big catfish. He wouldn't lose him this time; he would bring him in just like Grandpa taught him.
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