The Wobbles

It’s the worst part of inebriation. The vertigo. Knowing what’s up and what’s down but being unable to adhere to the standards. Standing on terra not-so-firma having established good sea legs during a long day in the chop.

The world has the wobbles and I swear that I haven’t taken a sip to deserve it.

Not good.

And especially not good with a flight to the Baja in the very near future.

So I’ll be throwin’ back 'dem little red sudafeds like Easter jellybeans for the next couple of days in the hopes that it’s just a tiny trout stream in my inner ear. Damn the jitters. But if the floor doesn’t stop tilting by Monday, it’s straight to the doc.

Or do you think that a few beers will counteract the spin?

Peep

They’ve been quiet of late. No noise coming from the tree frogs and chirpers that live in and around the pond just above the house. Winter’s had its way with them and they haven't peeped a peep for quite some time.

… not unlike a certain blogger I know.

The dreary season’s beaten us down - amphibian and fisherman/blogger alike - and it’s been hard to find inspiration. Jack Frost has worn his welcome thin as Lululemons.

But spring is peeking around the corner, finally. And with the budding cherries and blooming forsythia, I assure you, the racket will begin once again. Just be careful what you wish for.

For example, I’ll be getting back to this keyboard a bit in the coming days with a couple of book reviews (what else have I had to do lately, but read?) and maybe a Photo Bin. Then it’s buckle-down time at the ol'e Renzetti in prep for a much-needed spring jumpstart - a week tip-toeing the Tropic of Cancer, wandering the southern Baja, chasing roosters, dorado, and the elusive Mexican tequila pixies with my good friend (and bad influence), Chris Hunt.

Lord knows what noise will come out of that.

So here’s fair warning. Things are going to be picking back up around this place. Ready or not.

Peep

Note: I found the tree frog pictured at the top of this post in Mary's potting soil bin the other day. I felt bad interrupting his slumber but it was a nice afternoon - one of the few we've seen this year - and, once released, he happily climbed around the woodpile. That is, what's left of the woodpile after this much-too-long winter...

Stone Cold Like Fingers and Toes

Slate green, liquid jade
Stone cold like fingers and toes

The lake above turning over
Winter’s breath chilling surface waters
Frigid shallows dance with warm depths
If “warm” could be used to describe ice cubes

The cold choreography of thermoclines

Top and bottom tango, pirouette
Spinning dull mossy ribbons into the tailwaters below
Swirls like tattered felt in fluid breeze
Gathering in pea soup eddies
Chilled to the taste of the dead

You don’t catch fish in this, they say
So, in sheer desperation, Señor Worm
(Admit it. You have some)
San Juan fire in alpine chill
Equatorial red in glacial green
Faded Christmas colors

Two small browns find their way to the net
They chase more for the heat than to eat, I suppose
But who could blame them?

Not I

For as the day wears on
Sky reflects water reflects mood
And I leave to find some heat of my own

Stone cold like fingers and toes

Thanks, here, to my buddy Darrin for an afternoon on his chilly home waters, for his photo of an old man chasing trout, and for the conversations that inspired this bit of verse.

The Photo Bin - February 2013

It seems the shutter finger has been taking a break this month. Who could blame it? February here in the North Carolina Piedmont isn't very pretty. It has all the dreary drab of a winter that's overstaying its welcome with none of the picturesque fluffy white stuff. Dull, dull, dull.

About the only color we get this time of year is a back yard full of bluebirds and I suppose that's as good a fallback as it gets. We fledge a couple dozen each year out of the boxes around the house so there's always a handful of young ones looking for food and shelter throughout the winter. Somedays, though, it's like a family reunion. There's nothing like a half-dozen or so feathered sapphires sitting in the snags around the garden to brighten a gray day.

And we do get our occasional bluebird-sky days, most striking at sunrise. Those who have been around here a while will shake their heads at this image. More bare trees...

But it's hard not to soak them in with a view like ours. Especially since, for the first time, we had a professional come and clean the windows, inside and out. (I, as a rule, keep my skinny butt off ladders.) The result was startling and we found ourselves glued to the panes for the next few days, marveling at the clarity. Both of the shots above were taken from this southern expose. It's breathtaking.

So just three images this month. Not even any good fishing pics. You get off easy.

But there's no promises for down the road...