The Fish at Half Moon Lake
In the dead of winter’s early-morning dawn,
they loaded into the station wagon with a scattering of reluctance at the hour but glee for what lay ahead.
Snow drifts high to the knee
Each pitter pattered behind their father in eager anticipation of what came next.
The crunch of the frozen terrain beneath pairs of leather boots led them across the frozen surface of Half Moon Lake.
With the spot selected it was time to begin the drilling
Opening up access to the hidden liquid world below
Shielded from the seasonal changes above, not much changing for these aquatic creatures/
Day to Day
Water bubbling
Insects flutter and dodge about nearly escaping their untimely demise of a hook or a jaw.
Above the frozen shield, with one final twist of the wrist the father snaps through the surface exposing a perfect circular portal to the world below.
With lines, hooks, and bait in hand, he coaxes the eldest to drop in her line.
Unenthusiastically, she begins
ONe by one her brothers and father submerge their lines into the depths of a space unseen.
No guarantees to this endeavor
In the distance she hears a coo, her ears perk and eyes look beyond to an ambitious lark swooping down across the surface at a distance.
As he gaze wanders just like that a tug on her hand brings her back.
She darts her eyes downward through the dark hole below and begins to call her line back up.
Through the wintery waters emerges a frightened, scaled prize.
A flush of delight flushes her face as she holds up her catch with pride.
One after another the scene repeats much to her companion’s chagrin at their own empty poles.
With five on the line in under an hour, she tires of the repetition.
She probes with persistence to her father for rest.
He concedes and she makes her icy journey back to the car with bounty in toe.
The heavy load and the labored walk were more than her adolescent body could sustain.
With the open of the door, she drops her catch to the watchful eye of the cold fender and crawls into the cool leather bench seat-
Surrendering to slumper with ease.
In between dreams of summer, the cold reality swoops in with the opening of the driver’s door
An exuberant little brother books through her peace,
“Nita, wake up you sleepyhead! You’re not gonna sleep all day are ya?!”
Disoriented from the abrupt awakening, she rolls her eyes while slowly sliding herself back out to the now winter afternoon.
A breeze rushes across her face as she opens the door.
Bright and cold, she squints her sleepy eyes in adjustment to the world outside.
As her boots meet the ground once more, the petulant voice of her brother rings through once more eagerly beckoning her back to their holes.
As he disappears down the path, she quickens her steps one after another after him.
With a snap of a branch under foot, she remembers her line with a halt.
Tuning on her heels, she marches back up through the now afternoon slush to the car with determination.
But upon inspection finds no trace of her loot.
Without any success in her search,
she storms down back towards the lake
Rage bubbling up with each step closer as certainty brews of the culprit being the mischievous work of a brother.
Upon her arrival back to the jubilant trio, she spats with deep irritation,
“Give back my fish, Eric!”
With a puzzled look, his eyes dart about uttering an indignant but sincere response that he did not have them
Three confused faces looked up to their father for clarity.
With investigation on their mind, they collect their gear, what fish had been caught and begin the journey back to the car.
Upon arrival, Nita’s fish were still nowhere to be found.
She recounts the events leading up to her slumber to the father looking down at the wheel well with a furrowed brow.
As she breathlessly concludes her woeful tale, he deduces the catch must have been swiped by a greedy bypasser while she slept.
Her heart sunk and her head hung heavy looking down at her muddy, snow covered boots.
The rest began to put the gear back into the car as she stood looking out over the frozen lake of fortune’s turning tides.
As the engine rumbled to a start, she looked back over her shoulder to see her father stretched out the window bellowing to her with a toothy grin,
“Alrighty, Skipper, I’ll be back before dark for ya so just make sure you keep an eye on our dinner this time!”
She hurriedly advances to the car and opens the passenger door sliding into the jubilant laughter of her father bellowing through the car.
She sunk into her seat unamused at the events of this early morning family excursion.
Slipping his arm around the top of the bench seat, the father found his daughter’s shoulder pulling her closer to him as they dumped down the snow packed road.
Each tire track quickly blows away in the winter wind as they advance towards the warmth of home away from the crisp events of their time at Half Moon Lake.