Over The Edge

Eyes to the sky

It’s one of those dreary mornings; the rain’s been falling on and off since mid-night. Maggie, my yellow lab, even changed her mind after a peek out the garage door, apparently deciding she could hold it rather than venture out into the steady downpour.

It’s funny, for a dog that you can’t keep out of a lake or creek, Maggie doesn’t much like running around in the rain, unless she’s retrieving ducks. And a bath … a ridiculous project be it indoor or out. She just has to run around afterward trying to rub it off on the ground, which of course negates many of the gains from the bath, and creates other problems with the indoor version.

Maybe it was the blistering wind that added to the unfriendly mood in the back yard. Maggie stepped to the edge, sniffed deeply, trying to stay apace of all the smells bombarding her nose.

But then, suddenly, it didn’t feel so dreary after all. There was a comforting warmth in the wind. And I could smell a fiftieth or so of what Maggie was processing, something faintly fresh, earthy. There is that first time, every year, when something happens outside that sort of makes you sense of the approach of spring.

A few of those who have read my ramblings in the past may be saying, “Geez, this guy is obsessed with weather.” OK, guilty; the Weather Channel is among my favorite stations. Sat what you want, but they don’t show re-runs.

When I was a kid, rain would wash out a day of fishing. There was no mom tucking us safely away in Gortex rain suits and water-proof boots in those days. No, rain could pour down misery. We lived just minutes from the Texas City Dike: five miles of shoreline on both sides of a jetty not much wider than its road. My brother, Jeff, and I lived for days of fishing and exploring. No two days were alike, new discoveries and catches … except for the days it rained; they were all alike.

As I grew to love hunting that first cool breeze of each fall began to usher in new priorities. It stirred something deep inside to a fresh urgency.

My wife would probably tell you that my moods are affected by the weather. I would of course take issue with this, and we may even engage in a debate over it … depending on what the weather was doing.

I frankly don’t feel so bad about my condition. In fact, I take great comfort in knowing that there are many others who also suffer from this malady.
I have found, through careful research, that when on those occasions anglers gather -- elbows bent in the kitchen, wives in the den -- the subject of weather is more likely than not to pop up. I have also found that participants in such conversations are likely to be well prepared for the discussion.

“Should be good tomorrow …”
“Wind southeast five to 10 … “
“Clouds late … “
“Cold front tomorrow …”
“62 in the morning …
“Fog …”
“High 78 …”

It has been suggested to me that all this weather talk on my part is in some way age-related. I am pleased to inform you that through my research I have concluded that such is not the case. My younger colleagues seem as obsessed with weather as any of those guys standing around the kitchen. They get it on their phones, for goodness sakes … without making a call!

Just kidding. I’m actually a tech savvy guy. I check the weather online everyday. You should see all of the bookmarks I have for radar.

For the outdoor guy, who lives and breathes to get into a boat or a deer stand, weather is the unalterable force that has control over his passion. Even in these days of quality gear which provides us many more days outdoors, a cold front can still shut the fish down or a lack of cold fronts means no ducks for opening day. Weather is our second worst fear (… a wife who puts her foot down about time --and maybe money -- spent hunting and fishing.)

Whoa, let’s talk about something a little more positive. I see that a little sunshine is now peeking through the blinds. Maybe Maggie and I will take a ride down to take a look at the creek. And maybe it would be a good night to take the wife out to dinner.