Dog Days.

We find ourselves staring down mid-August, and we collectively shake our heads. Where has summer gone?

For those of us who occupy the small coastal towns on a year round basis, summer means work, for the most part. We thrive, and exist, on the tourist dollar. And while we curse them all season long for cutting us off in traffic, speeding through the town, jamming up our favorite restaurants and bars, and turning our main roads into parking lots, we still understand that we need them. That, when the beach towns return to local hands after labor day, and we all exhale, we will be staring down the long fall and winter; the lean months. It’s an amazing time of year to be here. We often get a small extension of summer weather that allows the locals, their schedules now considerably less cluttered, a little beach and bay time. Relaxation for the restless and overworked natives.

On the fishing front, my trips out on the water have been sporadic; few and far between. I sneak off to a local pond, or take my rods to the beach at least once a week, but never for long, and my fishing reports have remained light on content, just like this blog. I caught a monster of a carp that I couldn’t photograph, so it didn’t happen.

When the season ends, as it will before we know it, I’ll look forward to much more fishing. The fall season was excellent last year, and I’m hoping for a repeat. I’ll have more time to fish, to write, and to relax. Maybe the end of summer is not so bad, after all….





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