It's 6:30 in the morning. I should be fishing.
I walked to the outhouse, then down to the dock. The fish are flopping clear out of the water, breaking the mirrored surface. There was a hatch yesterday; great for the fish and swallows (and also for the eagles).
This was my regular routine every morning in those first few years, after we bought this lot on the lake. Our cabin bathroom remodel (and need to visit the outdoor facilities) brings it back vividly. The view from the outhouse is splendid, and even though the wooden dock is getting dangerously weak, I can't resist walking out on it and checking the water for fish.
We bought our first lot (with travel trailer and deck, dock and float) at this same time of year, and had this same perfect weather all summer long. We cleaned and pruned, repaired the float and ramp, repaired the heater and stove, and banished little furry creatures from our new weekend home.
Each afternoon we'd knock off work and go for a swim, then spend an hour or so floating the lake. We'd paddle out to the middle of the lake, and dream of having a cabin. And never dropped a line into the water.
I'm glad that's changed.