Fishing has been a part of our warm-weather seasons around here ... forever.
In our dating years, my wonderful husband and I spent hours sitting lakeside, watching bobbers float on rippled, glass-like surfaces. Good conversations had a chance to bloom out there, and our friendship grew.
The mini powdered donuts just enhanced the romance.
As soon as our little boys were able to cast a line, they joined the fishing crew, the differing levels of their
patience dictating the success and/or failure of a fishing trip. For quite a while, My Youngest thought he was really fishing with just a long stick resting in the shallow water's edge. He would take his stick-pole out of the water to examine the wet tip and wonder aloud: WHY are the fish not biting???
Eventually, he became the most avid fisherman of the group, except for his dad, of course.
When our boys were learning the art of angling, I watched my husband give up his fishing opportunities
to detangle lines from branches, re-bait hooks, remove and celebrate every hooked fish.
And isn't that what parenting is so often about?
That high-demand season of life passed, not so quickly, but still, it did pass,
and now my husband again fishes uninterrupted. His boys can all fish on their own.
Now their camraderie is what I admire, on display as they share lures and bait, advice and taunts.
And, of course - powdered donuts.
no romance included