Gathering Wild Asparagus---and more Stuff

When the Lilacs bloom the White Bass bite on the Wolf, the asparagus shows up and the spring is on. It is also the time to get the garden all planted and make summer plans. So today while on the road to pick up my forest wood, there on the side of the road, right where it always is, was this nice handful of spears. I'm not saying just where, of course.

What this means is a couple of things but for me, it is Ann's asparagus soup all made from cream and bacon bits. A person can't freeze the stuff, so it is one of those times where we natives have to eat it as fast as we can. It is after all, one of the first vegetables to show up in the spring, even though I do have a few Walking Onions that can be bagged and tossed over the asparagus.

Most interestingly, when the Lilacs  bloom, the fish are moving and this year rather than going to the Wolf for a little combat fishing, I decided to sneak off to a local lake of no repute, a lake where my non-fishing brother had said he had seen fish. Now, I know most of what he had seen were suckers, but they were big suckers and I figured where the suckers are big, maybe there would be other big fish like Bluegills.

So, I blew up my float boat and headed out to this smallish lake, a lake where I only had to walk a quarter of a mile, plop the craft in and plop my ass in it and off I go. It wasn't pretty but no one was killed--I ultimately did get a very wet lower butt end as the wadders were not made to be in a float boat. . Well, it wasn't all pleasantries because the mosquitoes were having a banner year and they welcomed me with much acclaim. However, once in the water they headed for the brush. I was left along to my own devices there on the this pristine pond, a crystal clear pond without a single fisherman and not a single cabin. It was like Canada.
The evening was warm and largely still with only the sounds of birds drifting into my new hearing aids. Wow, those aids do bring out the sounds and the resident geese gave me a good thrashing before they lifted off only to return once I was situated on the pond. To my delight, but after a number of smallish Gills the big boys showed up and left me proud of my choice. I used an old Fenwick glass fly rod that for some reason I had not changed the leader since '1961, or so it seemed. As a result, a couple of big Gills grabbed my flies and headed for the depths. Broke the line. Jerks.

It was truly a "Lake Runs Through It" evening as I drifted about the shoreline messing with the fish. In the end, I took home 4 giant Bluegills, let go numerous others, including three bass of marginal size, say 14 inch max. Filled with myself, I lifted out of the evening lake as the mosquitoes, and all their relatives chewed on my proverbial ass. Not too good a year for them but a good year for me. Well, from their point of view it might be a good year but they are not fun. Screw 'em. They keep out the riff-raff.