Earth Image Photography, Nature Photography, My Summer Office

7:30 p.m.-

A jet up high is unzipping the sky.

We passed under the trees and into our channel a few minutes ago. Rounding three curves I saw a bobber floating midstream. EZ was already alert to a woman standing on the bank wearing a feed cap. I said "hello," as she reeled in her line. She nodded and smiled, as I certainly wouldn't have done to a butting-in bastard in a boat. I saw a young boy farther along, then an older girl fishing too. Greeting them all I lost control of the boat's bearing, so said "excuse me," and gunned the motor reverse hard left to avoid a looming large stump. EZ grinned helpfully. A tree with scary limbs reaching was approached our starboard rail. The motor dragged muck, then stopped quite abrupt. I raised it three notches and started again. I leapt to the front to shunt us away as more limbs started scratching. EZ was crouching, no longer grinning, ears laid flat. I lunged back to the tiller and backed us up against strong current, then slammed it hard toward the way we should go.

The woman smiled again, though less literally. I nodded intellectually as we passed right on by and slammed into a tree. I kicked it pragmatically hard. It crumbled to bits, two bits of bark. I reached down and pushed us straight through. The girl on the bank cast her line out, right across where we had to go. I startled a moment then said, "do you mind if we play through?" She looked right at EZ, who was beaming her best, then broke out in giggles and pulled in her lure.

"We're sorry my friend, this was all her idea." I pointed at EZ with a shrug as to say, "what can you do?"

We are anchored now and I'm sorry to have clamored into a fishing scene. But it's over and they've gone home to the farmhouse up the road.

Earlier today we launched from shore in an upsetting uproar. The neighbors were stooped in a boat, bailing. Abeagle was there too, "ha-rooing" a falsetto mood from a chain. It loudened its howl when we drove up and got out. EZ barked back to show how normal dogs are supposed to do it, ad-libbing low haughty growls.

"Shut up, Georgie," snapped a woman in tight shorts. Then the husband farted grievously and yelled "Georgie, you're the king of all dorks." The man drained a beer can then threw it at Georgie, who skittered sideways and re-took-up his din.

The dog paid no mind to adult supervision but continued its grievance, from the farthest most end of the jingling fat noose.

I exited the truck and pretended not to notice this assault on us personally, and extravagantly disfavored it all, how gross!

"No Georgie," and "stop it now please Georgie," and "quiet, okay, Georgie?" too, the entreatments went on without doggy clue. Georgie "ha-rooed" and strained to be free; I caught EZ stalking nearly next door, then called her to me.

We got in the water and motored fast past, this bilious slob scene of bad manners with gas.

Another hot day, blasting heat pressing down; a trip into town. The lake was mirror-smooth in the middle of the day, no air stirring, no other boats out on this afternoon in July. Stopped to watch dragonflies mating out in the middle of the lake. Lofty sculpted arrangements like towers under construction. Realized the error--felt the weight of the sun, not a time to stop moving. So all the way fast upstream we created our own wind to cool sweaty skin, all the way upriver to Grand Sandbanks for a mood-altering swim.