Summer reading

In addition to The Brothers Karamazov, I read three other novels this summer.  Although the authors are not likely to ever to placed alongside Dostoyevsky, they are generally respected despite working in lighter genres.

John Le Carre's Smiley's People was an excellent novel to read at the beach because there was sufficient time to read it in large chunks.  In smaller portions, such as in bed at night, the details would have been difficult to retain from one reading to the next.  Wars often produce writers who come to be associated with that conflict, and Le Carre might be remembered as the novelist of the Cold War.

Earlier this summer I read Carl Hiaasen's Bad Monkey.  Like his other novels I've read, it's a comically grotesque crime story with environmental themes.  Hiaasen is a native Floridian who's an avid outdoorsman, and underneath his humor is anger over the damage greed and corruption have done to his state.

I'm currently about to finish James Lee Burke's Light of the World.  Like Hiaasen, Burke's love of the outdoors shows in his writing.  Unlike Hiaasen's, However, there is very little humor in Burke's writing which generally feature acts of extreme violence.  This novel is set in Montana where I believe the author currently lives, but many of his books take place in his native Louisiana.  Both locations are accurately and vividly captured in his descriptive prose.  The plot of this one proceeds and climaxes like an action movie, but the observations about people as well as nature elevate it above similar stories.

Fished today on the Potomac near DC

 

After scouting this location which was new to me, I had lunch while waiting for Lou and also took a picture of the C & O Canal.   We each caught a few smallmouth bass on crystal buggers and had a good time.  Water level was 3.02 at Little Falls. 

Three nights in Bethany Beach

Returned yesterday.

Pam reading on the balcony of the soon-to-be-closed Bethany Arms Hotel: 

 














Late afternoon view from that balcony:

Among Upper Potomac Islands

The big ones like Nolands are somewhat permanent while the tiny ones come and go.  The above photo is facing upriver, and I believe Nolands is on the right.

Fishing today was typical:  two smallmouth and many bream in three hours, all on the surface.  I spent too much time futilely using a weedless wooly bugger I tied yesterday when the fish clearly were only interested in feeding on top.  As on the last trip, a slider type fly was very effective.  Saw a bald eagle.  River lever was 1.98 at Point of Rocks and 3.00 at Little Falls.

County Fair

For the second consecutive year I assisted at the Izaak Walton League booth today.

I took a little time to walk around to take in the scene.

Yesterday in the backyard...

 
 

Some of the liriope are blooming:













Butterflies seem abundant this year.  I'm seeing lots of other photos of them by friends, so maybe it's not just our yard.

 

The butterfly is a swallowtail, and the plant is a ligularia. 

 

 

They were hitting surface flies today

on the upper Potomac at Nolands Ferry.  Three smallmouths but the major action was from big bluegills who wanted bass sized surface flies.  Great fun.  Water levels were 1.78 at Point of Rocks and 3.00 at Little Falls.

The view from the canoe...

...on Triadelphia Lake this afternoon.  Drifted and caught bream on a yellow head-head marabou streamer fly.

On the Upper Potomac finally

With a clean bill of health, yesterday I made my first trip this season to kayak, wade, and fish my favorite waters.  Water levels have been high this summer, but I looked back through my fishing records and determined that this area of the river would be ok for wading.

Weather was beautiful, and the fishing was fair:  two smallies and about a half dozen bream, all caught on a B & B fly.  One of the smallmouths was quite small, and even the larger was far from a trophy but fought well and jumped.

Below is the much photographed aqueduct at the Mouth of the Monocacy.

A few words on health

Last week my knee had tentatively been diagnosed as having a torn meniscus, but I learned today that the M.R.I. showed no tear.  There had been about three days of pain that caused me to make the doctor's appointment, and I treated the discomfort with Ibuprofen.  The pain then lessened and I no longer had to use a cane to walk. 

For those few days I wasn't pleasant to be around which seems to be typical on my part when I'm having health problems.  I don't like not being able to do the things I like.  I'm in good health but I should work on preparing to accept the physical limitations that generally come with aging.  I'm not certain on how to be more positive about this aspect of old age.

Alfred Hitchcock's Blackmail

Although this poster describes it as a sound movie, the version we saw tonight at the AFI was actually silent.  A musical accompaniment was provided by a live chamber orchestra which added to the uniqueness of the screening.  The Silver Theater in Silver Spring was built in 1938, so it's unlikely this version was ever shown there before.  Still, watching gave me the definite sense that I was seeing a classic silent movie in an environment much like movie-goers experienced it when it was released in 1929.

 

 

An Over-due Tribute to Back-up Singers

Saw the documentary "20 Feet from Stardom" last weekend, and it was the best movie I've seen in years.  Audience members emerge from the theater with smiles on their faces because the film lifts your spirits and makes the world look a little brighter.  It made me think how much influence the back-up singers, usually African-American women, have had on music I've listened to all my life.

Remembering back

In the 1950's the first neighborhood I grew up in was populated by young families most of whom moved to the DC suburbs from small towns in rural areas.  They retained many of the habits from their backgrounds including relying on Sears and Montgomery Wards catalogs for many purchases.

Browsing through these catalogs was a wonder for a small boy.  I remember microscopes, telescopes, musical instruments, fishing rods, guns, and various toys.  Ladies' underwear was of interest but not to extent it would be when I was older.  However of all items, I was positively obsessed with the baseball gloves offered for sale.  I can still picture the two page spread of the various models each bearing the autograph of a major league player.

A baseball glove may not have been the first item purchased for me, but it was far and away the most important in my world.  I was no doubt given certain parameters concerning price, and I would have devoted hours in making my final selection.  Soon after my mother called in the order, I questioned her and realized to my horror that she purchased a glove intended for left-handers.  She made the mistake because the description stated it was to be worn on the right hand which she concluded would be correct for a right-hander like me.  I had to explain to her that since I threw with my right hand the proper glove would be on my left hand.  She answered that she always thought you catch with both hands and performed her version of the motion which was, of course, beside the point and probably angered me because my emotions would have been on edge enough as it was.  A nightmarish vision was coming into my boy-brain of having to take off the glove to throw the ball after each catch.

Naturally, the correction was made, and I eventually received the correct glove, but the delay must have been excruciating at age 8 or 9.  I think a number of mothers must have made the same error because the next year the wording in the catalog was expanded to specifically describe that a certain glove was for right-handers to wear on the left hand.

Concert at the Franciscan Monastery

Last night we attended a concert performance by a children's choir from Lucerne, Switzerland.  The program included works by Brahms and Bach as well as what sounded like an African-American spiritual which was not on the printed program and a Swiss folk song which was the only secular piece.  The sound was beautiful.

I blogged about going to the monastery on July 2, 2011, and beginning shortly after that first visit Pam has been volunteering at the office once a week.

Weekly walk to a farmer's market

A problem of where we live in the suburbs is that walking to stores is not very practical.  There are shopping areas a of couple miles from the house, but the walk is largely unpleasant along well traveled,  pedestrian unfriendly roads which would be especially troublesome carrying grocery bags on the return trip.

However, this summer a Saturday farmer's market has established itself in the parking lot of a middle school about a mile away, and I'm making a weekly morning walk there.  The trip is almost entirely along our street, and on my first trip I realized that I may have walked this route only once before in the 27 years we've lived here.  It's a pleasant neighborhood, and I've found that I enjoy looking at the homes and yards.

There are only about a half dozen vendors at this market, but the meats and produce I've bought have been good.  I walk home through the park rather than back through the residential neighborhood for a change of scenery.

Quantum physics

Last semester I took a class in this subject that was offered within the philosophy department.  It was entitled "Spooky Action at a Distance," which comes from a quote by  Albert Einstein who wasn't completely comfortable with quantum physics but could not deny its validity. 

This summer I'm doing some additional reading on the subject, and maybe I'll sometime be able to articulate a coherent thought about it.

Meanwhile, I ran across this video that incorporates some of the concepts.  Not a bad song either.

Fishing in a summer drizzle...

...is pleasant enough.  Since I was just at the pond I could have walked home had the drizzle become a downpour or an electrical storm.

Fishing's been a little tough at the pond which is why I sought out alternatives last week.  I did mange one bluegill today, and I had to work for it.

Fishing a couple of small lakes from shore

Wednesday I fished the lake in the parkland along the Patuxent River I first visited and described on January 18th of this year.

 

To me, it's just as pretty in the summer as the winter.

 

 

.

Then on Friday I hit the "lake" at the Izaak Walton League where I caught a nice bass as well as multiple bream which I also got on the other trip.

Three's a crowd...

Some time ago I read an article in an outdoor magazine where the writer reminisced about his boyhood and when his father decided that he was old enough to go hunting without an adult.  His father gave him permission to have a friend along on these hunts, but absolutely forbade him to go with two boys.  That father apparently felt that a third party significantly changed the dynamics and that three boys were much more likely to indulge in bad behavior than two.

I've often thought about that story and have always felt that the father displayed wisdom in setting down that rule.  I'll leave it to the behavior scientists to analyze, but the point seems to me to be true about humans in general and not just young men. 

It came to mind Monday when I was canoeing in the reservoir.  I was drifting along casting to the shoreline for bream and thinking how quiet and restful the moment was when the peace was suddenly disturbed by the presence of three male teenagers moving through the woods.  They were loud and profane and I instantly became alert to a possible threat, but they either didn't notice or ignored me.  Most likely they were harmless and no worse than I was at their age.  I don't know if they were there to fish or for an illegal swim, but I soon paddled across the lake to get away from their noise.

As I resumed fishing I had the intuitive thought that two of them would have been much more than one third quieter, that the addition of boy number three increased the sound exponentially.  Obviously, I don't know this for a fact but I believe it based on my memories of my own boyhood as well as the article read long ago.

After catching a few fish I hurried off the water when I heard thunder rumblings getting closer.  The chatter of the three boys was still carrying across the water, seemingly louder than the thunder.

Bride and Groom

Daughter Rebecca and Sean with Stephen Koch who performed the ceremony on Sunday, June 16, 2013.

June 16, 2013

Rhythms of June: 

A poem for my daughter's wedding by Doug Jones

 

 As the solstice draws ever near

Completing a cycle of the year,

The sun ascends into the sky.

Long, hot summer days stand by.

 

What treasures do we see in June?

Crape myrtles and magnolias bloom.

Mayflies emerge from clear, cool, streams.

Fireflies dance through warm evenings.

Nature's gifts:  earth, air, and water,

And the month of June gave us our daughter.

 

June rhythms

Rhythms of June
 

June vacations at the beach-

Little girl's hand stretching to reach

Her mother's, placed there to reassure

Fears of crashing waves.  She's made secure.

 

June rhythms

Rhythms of June

 

They've marked the tempo of her existence

Mattering not how far the distance,

Through summer camps, proms, and graduations

Her life in tune with the vibrations.

 

June cell phone call from Manhattan's streets,

Woman's voice  says, "I should be at the beach."

June rhythms guiding her body.

 

So it is fitting that this June day

We gather here to observe this phase,

The union with a fine, young man.

They've shown already that they can

Create a world of their own

Stronger than one built alone,

A  shelter from the harsh outside

Where gentleness and support abide.

A world I felt first on a cold, wet, night

In a cozy apartment in Crown Heights.

 

June warmth

June rhythms

June love

 

Bruce Springsteen

Although his name sounds Jewish, it's actually Dutch.  His ancestors immigrated here over 300 years ago, but the family incorporated Irish and Italian members along the way.  In other words, he's very American, and I've been a fan of his high energy rock and roll for 40 years.

I recently finished reading what has been described as his definitive biography, Bruce by Peter Carlin, and enjoyed it very much.  One major benefit of reading it is that I'm listening again to his music which I hadn't been doing lately because as Springsteen fans go my fanaticism is mild.  For example, I don't often listen to the channel on satellite radio which plays his music and nothing else, and I don't believe I've ever visited any of the internet sites that feature All Things Bruce.  But I invariably come back to his music, and I'm never disappointed when I do because it always lifts my spirits with its passion.

Early in his career there was a famous quote by a rock critic who later became Springsteen's manager and after seeing a live performance stated that he had seen rock and roll's future and its name was Bruce Springsteen.  A less famous but I believe more fitting quote from someone else said that Springsteen was less rock and roll's future than he was the culmination of everything in the music that happened up to that point.  That quote doesn't appear in the book and I've forgotten who said it, but it was meant as praise for the unique way Bruce incorporated country, soul, Top 40, and more into his recordings and live performances.

I'm not certain how many Springsteen concerts I've attended, maybe as many as 10 or 12 going back to 1974, and each time I find myself swallowed by the combined energy of the performers on stage and the crowd in a way I wouldn't allow myself to be at, say a political or religious event.  I don't know if rock and roll has supplanted politics and religion for people like me, but the feeling sure feels right.  Hey, that sounds like a Springsteen lyric.

Little Paint Branch

On Tuesday I explored this stream near where I grew up in College Park.  I didn't spend much time there as a kid because it was on the other side of U.S. 1, but I do remember a friend taking me to a swimming hole a little ways downstream.  The unauthorized swimming trip got me in trouble with my parents.  That was almost 60 years ago.

Although I had read an fairly recent report by someone who had some success fishing this stream, I only saw and caught a few small minnows.




Human activity and the usual abuses are evident.  The majority of the trash trapped by this downed tree seemed to be plastic water bottles.  A  few years ago I promised myself to never buy those things.

On the Bay with friends

Spent a very pleasant Wednesday fishing the islands of the Eastern Shore.  Although our expressions in this photo look a little grim, we had a fun trip.  That's Colonel Ski with me on the stern of the boat.

Lou fly casting from the bow.  We caught a lot of fish with spinning rods,but neither Lou nor I were successful with the long rod.







Capt. Pete works hard to put his clients on fish and wanted us to get more speckled trout than the couple we landed.  None of us were disappointed, however, because we had plenty of action from the plentiful rockfish, plus a croaker, a spot, and a red drum.  To the captain's right is Chumbucket, the Internet legend.

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.