Evening on Cloverdale Lake

It’s my favorite time of the day. I sip a beer watching the sun slowly drop behind the trees. Over water, the air quickly cools. Most boats are heading in, but I paddle on, working hard to ward off the chill. At dusk, the wind has finally died and I pull out a fly rod and work a small spider across the water, quickly picking up a number of blue gills and one small bass. Soon, it’s so dark I’m getting my line tangled. I decide to switch to a spinning rod, to toss a plug across the water to tempt some Leviathan bass to rise up from the deep and strike. But when I look in my sack of tackle, I realize that I don’t have any such plugs with me. A mosquito, taking advantage of the still air, buzzes around my head. The quarter moon and the brightest star, probably Vega, the bright star in the summer sky, are reflected in the still waters of the lake. It’s time to go in. I pick up my paddle and draw it through the water, setting a course to the light across the lake to the boat ramp. It’s been a pleasant evening and I will sleep well.