Strapping the canoe to the top of the Jeep, setting off with the girls for some early season bass-and-bluegill reconnaissance. Too early, still, as the fish haven't found their motivation, yet. When the sap gets running and the spawn gets rolling, those panfish will bite out of pure territorial aggression.
Waiting for that moment. Shiloh's got a fly rod to call her own this year. I'm eager to get her on to some enthusiastic fish. But, no fish tonight.
Plenty of black flies, though they were kept down reasonably enough by the occasional light breeze. A pretty spot. Drove away as the sun set over the valley and water behind us. Windows down, hit the gas to usher out the lingering flies.
Girls in the back seat, sun-kissed and sweaty. Hit the gas; strawberry blonde hair, blowing in the wind.
One day, they'll be women. But tonight, they are girls; sun-kissed and sweaty, smelling of bug spray and pond water. Strawberry blonde hair, blowing in strands over their slowly closing eyes in the back seat of the jeep.
Oh, how I do love them, terribly!