The Monsters of Cove Creek

Before bedtime my son and I took the canoe out. High water from a week of heavy rains gave us an opportunity explore where we hadn't previously, and to escape into our imaginations. On the far side of the lake there is a triangle of shallow water that extends into the woods: The Cove. The cove is where the Monster Fish hunt. We paddled back into the cove, hoping to startle one from the lake bottom, to feel the displaced water rock our canoe. As we paddled to the back of the cove, we realized water was still flowing out of the woods into the lake. A tiny creek, usually a dry bed, was almost to the top of its banks. 

We decided to paddle to its source. The channel grew narrow, and the thick grass grew high from its banks, blocking our view to the right and left.  The creek made a sharp bend and then the trees enveloped us. The entire way my son peppered me with questions. 

"Are we in the woods, Dad?"

"There are not monsters in the woods, right Dad?"

"Is hate a bad word, Dad?"

"Are there snakes here, Dad?"

"Can I say I hate snakes, Dad?"

"Only dragons breath fire, right, not dragonflies, right, Dad?"

I was focused on my unrealistic hope that the creek would spill out into another lake, or Big Cedar Creek.....or Narnia, so I gave a short answer to each question. 

"Yes, of course."

Before the creek reached Narnia, it ended, predictably, in a mudbank. Feeling a little silly for indulging my imagination and wasting time, I paddled back to the lake to resume teaching my son to bass fish with a jig and plastic worm, an activity that is most definitely not a waste of time.  He wanted to fish from the Big Rock.

When I looked at him later he had set his Buzz Light Year pole down, pulled several feet of line from the reel, and taken the plastic worm from the weighted jig. He stood on the rock and with great concentration threw the jig over and over at a passing dragon fly, pulling the line back in, hand over hand, with each miss. In his mind he was a knight, protecting his castle from the dragon that flew over his moat. 

"That monster is trying to get us. Do you think I can catch him like this, Dad?"

I smiled, lost in his imagination. 

"Yes, of course."

Video evidence of the monster fish.

New Orleans Food, Oxford Ghosts, Memphis Blues

From Bourbon to Beale with Kids

New Orleans

Morning was the perfect time to visit the French Quarter with the kids. The crowd and heat hadn't kicked in, and for breakfast we love beignets from Cafe Du Monde, a short walk from the public parking on Decatur, which is easy to find from I-10. After shopping the French market and exploring St. Louis Cathedral, we ate po' boys and alligator before cruising Bourbon Street in the mini-van. At Ursulines we hung a left and then took Dauphine toward the Garden district, where we finished the trip by exploring Lafayette Cemetery.

Oxford

Demanding that your children read "A Rose for Emily" at bedtime may or may not be good parenting, but that's how I introduced Faulkner to my daughters before visiting Rowan Oak, on July 6th, the anniversary of his death. The girls were thinking of the story as they walked up the steps to the door and whispered, "This place looks haunted."  Our son reached the door first and knocked. When the door sprung open by itself all three mouths dropped.  For a moment we thought they were going to run. The attendant, who watched their approach, paused before stepping out from behind the door. He had the same mischievous eyes and smile as our son, and made us feel welcome. In the study, we examined plot diagrams on the walls, written for the books that rest on our living room bookshelf. In a photograph upstairs we searched  for the mysteries held in Caroline Barr's eyes. Outside we shared the grounds with the ghosts of Yoknapatawpha County.

Memphis
For our family, learning about Blues Music is an important window into American history. The Rock 'n' Soul Museum was a perfect classroom for all of us. Every minute we spent was a valuable investment of time. Feeling inspired, we crossed the street to the Gibson gift shop where I was able to grab an ax and pick a little.

The kids weren't impressed with my amateurish attempt, so we headed one block over to Beale where we met real blues men and enjoyed great ribs and live music at Flynn's. After lunch we made a quick visit to the ducks at the Peabody before jumping back in the van, which was parked just across the street on South Third.

First Salt Water Catch: Fishing Bay St. Louis

It wasn't long before my daughter felt the familiar tug and I heard, "Fish on, Daddy."

We walked through chest deep troughs carefully holding the rod and reel high. One hundred yards from shore we found a sand bar. There the water of Bay St. Louis gently lapped against us at our knees on its way to the beach where the rest of the family played.

My oldest daughter and I surveyed our surroundings. To our left the bridges carrying cars and trains to Pass Christian arched into the air. To our right the coastline worked its way toward New Orleans where we spent the morning shopping and dipping beignets in cafe au lait. Behind us the sun began to set over multicolored beach homes on South Beach Boulevard . All around us small fish made double leaps over the surface. Sea gulls and pelicans patrolled above.

A plastic crawfish on a .5 circle hook dangled on twenty four inches of leader below a large popping float. My daughter was excited, and though I tried to feign confidence as I assembled the rig, I was too. We grant ourselves expert status in our canoe at home where we bass fish, but this our first experience together fishing salt.

We began working the next trough out, and though our first few casts yielded no result, it wasn't long before my daughter felt the familiar tug and I heard, "fish on, Daddy."

As we waded back to shore to show off the catfish, all of ten inches, she had a smile and the confidence to ensure this wouldn't be her last catch from the bay.

Summer's First Fishing Trip

What started out with a question, ended with lunch. The fact that we hit for our version of the cycle and missed the afternoon storms made it even better.

Today was the first day of summer vacation that I was able to spend at home, and when I asked my oldest daughter if she she thought we should run to the store to buy worms to go fishing her reply was, "Can we?"

Soon we were dodging snags and rain clouds. We beat the rain back to shore with the perfect amount of fish for lunch. By the time we were finished, the basket held at least one of the lake's three tastiest species: bass, crappie, and my favorite, bluegill.

The picnic table, camp stove, and cast iron skillet served as our  backyard kitchen. Tortilla shells, which are perfect for checking to see if the oil is ready, were our side dish. Thin fillets crisped to a golden brown in the Andy's fry mix. The mullberry tree provided dessert.

We both agreed to do it again soon. Now we need a day without meetings on the schedule or rain in the forecast.