Backyard shrubs in late May

Weigela on the left and an old Rhododendron that flowered surprisingly well this Spring on the right hand side.  That whole section of the yard had been filled with other  Rhododendron, but this is the last survivor from when we moved in, 27 years ago.

A view of the current backyard garden which shows the same plant in the background.

And the front yard:

 That Mahonia on the right, but we have forgotten the name of the plant on the left:

May fishing so far

Bluegills are spawning in different areas of the pond this year.  Rather than the shallow section at the inlet, they are spawning on our side right in front of a frequently used bench.  I caught some big ones there this year as well as a good bass.  A foam spider has been more effective than a B & B.

I'm keeping the canoe at Triadelphia this year rather than Rocky Gorge.  Put it in the water later than usual because of the cool spring and have only been out once, about a week ago, and caught nothing.

Went out for the first time in the kayak yesterday at Lake Needwood.  Didn't catch any bass but a number of small bluegill all on a foam spider.

Flowers in our garden

The wildflower Star of Bethlehem comes up annually, but this year it seems to be especially numerous.  The blue flower on the left is planted lobelia.

Some of the ferns have opened, but others are still fiddle heads:

Lily of the Valley also seem to like this cool spring:

Youngsters at the park

Eight anglers and eight keeper rockfish

When you leave the Western Shore of the Chesapeake Bay in the early morning you are often treated to spectacular sunrises as the boat heads east.  So it was Saturday, April 27 when I took my third trip in the last twelve months with Capt. Dave and Capt. Billy out of Ingram Bay in Virginia's Northern Neck.

We soon turned north into Maryland waters where the spring trophy rockfish season begins earlier than Virginia's.  In addition to the Capt. and Mate (Capt Dave, for this trip), there were eight anglers, and we drew cards to establish the order of who grabs the trolling rod that a fish has hit.  The fish bit at a generally steady pace during the day, eight keepers, each angler landing one.

My friend, Chris, had the biggest fish:









Here is Capt. Billy keeping his eye on a passing tanker:

Here is my fish:

After we reached our eight fish limit, we pulled in the sixteen lines and headed back to the marina:

Always the gracious host, Capt. Dave provided a cook out at his home next to the marina.  After dinner I drove the 2 1/2 hours home, and Pam and I picked up Becca and Sean at Union Station at midnight.

Viet Nam War plaque at the University

On my walks around campus I encounter various objects donated by certain graduating classes or organizations.  I liked this donation from 1988 which was well after the war, but it shows that the scars were still present on our country.  The inscription may not be clear in the photo.  It states "To all those whose lives were touched by the fire of the war" which is a nice thought because it includes not just those who served but the friends and families of those who served and those who felt the anguish of the damage done to America.

The plaque is located on the grounds of the Memorial Chapel, an especially pleasant area of the campus and important to me because it's where we were married.

Shad at Fletchers Boathouse

Got out twice-once on the 11th, a day when the run slowed down and fishing was slow.  Did catch an American shad.  Went back the week of the 16th and I got about a half dozen hickories which are smaller but jump. Also caught one white perch.  Some of the fish came on a sink tip line, but mostly I used a full sinker.

Typical Fletchers April scene.

April in the Park

The beginning of the month was pretty chilly, and I only got out once to fish for trout and didn't catch anything.  Now the warm weather species are active, and I've caught bass and bluegill.

Spring snow quickly departs

Probably to the joy of the daffodils:

Only Real Snow of the Winter...

...and actually it came in Spring.  Temperatures this March have been lower than normal.  Pictures taken this afternoon as it was turning to rain.

Bob Dylan and a Generation's Music

Recently reading a book about Bob Dylan summoned up thoughts I've had over the years about his music and the music of his contemporaries. Like many of my peers, Dylan's music has always gotten into my head, into my psyche, under my skin.  Neil Young's does too, but he and Dylan are sometimes capable of producing lyrics that are, well just silly.  Bruce Springsteen has also produced great music over the years but is more of a craftsman whose lyrics never strike me as silly.  On the other hand, as great as he is, Springsteen's lyrics don't get to me like Dylan's or Young's at their best.

A year or two ago, I read Keith Richards' book which makes clear that the Rolling Stones initially set out to be good enough  blues musicians to be respected by their African-American blues heroes, somewhat like Dylan's early goal of carrying on Woody Guthrie's folk tradition.  I suppose at varying levels they all wanted to be rich and famous.  Many young men do, but the immediate goal for both Dylan and the Stones was artistic according to their individual criteria.  I doubt that any of them had any idea about how all-powerful their fame would become.

In economists' terms, they all presented a product, their talent.  For both Dylan and the Stones, their first records were covers of other people's songs, but it wasn't until they began recording and performing their own compositions that the true extent of their talent emerged.  This talent encountered a demand that, for reasons that were demographic, cultural, and sometimes political, was huge.  So voracious was this demand and the resulting fame that it swallowed some of the rock stars-  Hendrix, Joplin, Morrison- all victims of the pressures of this particularly intense fame's appetite.  John Lennon and Brian Jones also and perhaps the King of Rock of Roll, Elvis himself, perished because of it.  Others followed.

But Dylan escaped.  He slipped away in various disguises before being destroyed.  The disguises varied.  Once it was as a  simple country singer, and once it was as a born-again Christian.  Now he's a disc jockey and a working musician on a nonstop concert tour.

"Spokesman for a Generation" was too heavy a crown for Dylan to carry, but he'll never escape that significance for those whose lives were affected, even changed by his music.  Mine was one of them.

The Rossborough Inn

 Having lived all my life in the Maryland suburbs, I'm not used to seeing old buildings during my daily routine.  That's why a structure built two centuries ago to serve travelers between Washington and Baltimore stands out.  Construction of the Rossborough Inn began in 1798 on what is now U.S.Route 1, so it goes back to before there was a college on the surrounding land.  What became the University of Maryland was chartered as Maryland Agricultural College half a century later, and as it grew it encompassed the Inn which has been in continuous use for events and offices since.

In April, 1864, the Inn was occupied by the Confederate Army who were welcomed by the students and faculty which is characteristic of the sympathies of many Marylanders at that time.  Locals joined the Rebel officers in an evening party during their stay.

The Rossborough has long been rumored to be haunted because of numerous sightings of ghostly figures over the years and as late as 1981 by a presumably sober University employee.

I noticed this plaque from the class of 1910 for a gateway along side the Inn.  One of the names on the right column is Millard E. Tydings who became a noted United States Senator from Maryland and whose step-son, Joseph also served as a Senator.  The elder Tydings has a hall at the University named for him and also a bridge across the Susquehanna River near the family estate.

Sunday in the South Bethany wetlands

After breakfast at George and Margaret's, we took a walk around their neighborhood.

The surrounding area is wetlands, the upper reaches of tidal creeks flowing into Little Assawoman Bay on the Maryland/Delaware border.

Saturday at Rehoboth Beach

It's been a few years since we were there.  Met friends George and Margaret for lunch at a Mexican restaurant on the main drag.

Nice seeing the ocean again.

Signs that Spring is coming...

Crocuses in the back yard.

A dusting of snow in the park

Although we haven't yet had a major snow this winter, we've had about four dustings like this.



Here are two stands of bamboo which I often pass on my walks:

My favorite dead tree in winter:






The pond's mostly frozen.

The snow dusting in the yard

A view of the side yard I don't usually photograph:

My usual view of the side yard:

And the front yard:

Not everything changes for the worse...

With the increasing urbanization around me, it's easy to bemoan the diminishing of outdoor recreation.  Certainly fishing is under constant threat from deterioration of water quality, and hunters largely must travel to rural parts of Maryland.  However, some things have improved.

When I was a young man, the land adjoining the Patuxent River just below and above where it becomes tidal was private and much of it was devoted to sand and gravel operations.  Yesterday I visited one of these former sites which has been restored by the park service and returned to its natural environment.

I scouted out a canoe/kayak launch which I plan to use this spring to fish the river.  The park also features an 8 acre lake for bass and panfish fishing.

I see geese everyday, but these were wilder and spookier than the geese near my house 

Apparently, there are beavers among the park residents.






I suspect these ornamental grasses were planted along the trails.

It's a pretty place, and I plan to return.

Smoked Brisket

After a decade or so of not using my electric smoker, I'm getting back to smoking meat on it.  Today for the first time I tried beef, about 3 1/4 pounds of brisket that I bought yesterday at a nearby kosher market.

I let the meat soak overnight in my regular brine and today smoked it with hickory for almost six hours.  It measured well done on my meat thermometer at that point.

Winter with slushy snow