Tame the dragon---

 

2.     Tame the Beast---enjoy…the Show!

 

“When you swing the line out, son, try to let it fall gently into the water; that might take away the “plop” of the cork which could chase the crappie off our bed.” Dad offered his young ward.

Silver-diamonds sparkled on the lake surface and gently beat a cadenced-rhythm against the flat bow of the anchored boat as dad and son enjoyed an afternoon of crappie fishing. The boy, a white “taw”-head of ten sat in the seat nearest the front of the little rowboat while dad manned the oars keeping the bobbing craft just off the submerged cedar tree bed where the crappie spawned. He and the boy had brought their Christmas tree, along with four other co-opted used ornament and light decoration, now bare of the adornments, to the clubhouse back in deep, cold January. They had wired the discarded trees together in one large “heap” once they had dragged them onto the then-frozen lake ice; securing the jumble into one huge package, dad had brought a half-dozen concrete blocks along to anchor the trees to the bottom for a “crappie-bed” where they now fished during the spawning season.

Wiring the heavy blocks to the mound of dead trees, dad carefully aligned the debris with land marks on the shore from two “benchmark” points about twenty feet out so that, once spring visited and the ice melted, causing the tree “fish-bed” to sink, the exact spot where the “shelter” lay submerged could be located, thus, resulting in easy crappie-catches on early fishing-trips.

The boy thought the “plan” absolutely ingenious! His dad knew everything ; could do it all!

Suddenly, the wind took a chill turn and switched directions; the boy snuggled deeper into his spring jacket tugging his prized baseball cap tighter onto his head, giving an involuntary shiver.

“Pull up the anchor, son.” His dad announced to the surprise of his boy.

Seeing the question on his ward’s expression, he added, inclining his head to the west, “Storm’s brewing. Came up real sudden. That wind change and the coolness tell me we’re about to get drenched. Figure we got just about ten minutes to get to the clubhouse for safety.”

Hauling the anchor aboard, the boy heard a crack of thunder just over the rise of hills.

Dad rowed mightily, heading for the dock. In six minutes they were mooring the boat and grabbing fishing poles and tackle boxes. The boy reached for the live-net containing the catch; they had pulled it into the boat for the journey to refuge.

“Put the fish bag over the side; leave the string tied to the oar lock. They can ride out the storm, here.” The boy did as he was told, learning a valuable lesson in the process.

Dad stepped ashore as the boy tied-off the net; they reached the clubhouse covered porch as the first cold drops fell. Closing the door tight behind them, dad lit the wood stove fire. A flash of yellow-white lightning illuminated the interior of the tidy shelter followed by a crash of thunder. The boy went to the window to watch the show; dad got busy warming food on the electric range. Hailstones pounded the roof of the little clubhouse as each delighted in the storm.

“Might try us some bass fishing in an hour or two,” Dad allowed. “They’ll be biting along the steep shore line, looking for an easy meal after the rain washes feed off the hill into the lake.

“Meantime, we’ll chow-down, warm ourselves by the fire and watch ole Mother Nature work her awesome-magic.” He looked at his son, smiling. “I love a good storm!” He allowed.

“Me, too!” Came the boy’s reply. His secret wish: One day to be as fine a man as his mentor.

 

Fear not! Follow Me! A brief synopsis of the Holy Bible.

 

Challenge life! Live! Love! Laugh! Fully enjoy thy time-space adventure!