March 13, 2024
Fishing and Farming
My wife was sick all night long with food poisoning. She was up vomiting for most of the night, and I was awake worrying about her. When I checked on her about three in the morning, she was sleeping with a small blanket on the bathroom floor because she knew the next round of sickness was imminent. It was a rough night for her.
Early in the morning, I drove to the Harris Teeter grocery store in Wilson to get some medicine, as well as some applesauce and frozen fruit for a smoothie. While I was tired, the morning drive into Wilson was beautiful. It was the end of twilight when the sky turned from midnight blue to magnificent shades of magenta, orange, and yellow. Clouds filled the sky, but they appeared out of focus, resembling a smooth oil painting that Bob Ross himself had softened and feathered.
When I got back into my vehicle to leave the store, a man approached my car on foot and asked for money. I didn’t have any cash, and I even checked the glove compartment where we sometimes keep money for emergencies, but there was none. Ten years ago, I had a different attitude toward pandering. When I worked as a police officer, I saw people scamming other people all the time. There was a technique to it that used a well-concocted story and even props. Back then, I saw the entire enterprise as fraudulent.
These days, however, while someone might lie to persuade people to give money, they were not jumping into their brand new car, driving to their luxury home, and taking a rest in their pool. They really were facing hard times. I’ve been fortunate to have a good job that pays well. And while my skills and work ethic helped position me, some of my success was just plain luck. People that make a good living usually have way more than they need, while the people who need money have little to no options for solving the problems fate dealt them. Did I need so much when others had so little? The man was kind, and I wished him luck, and I felt good that my intentions were genuine.
When I arrived home, I gave my wife some medicine and did a few chores around the house before getting ready for work. Since I had worked half shifts for two days, I had moved several meetings to today, so although I could have taken a sick day, I felt obligated to get caught up with work. The day was busy, but productive, and my teammates were all in good spirits. My wife slept most of the day, but was able to stomach a little applesauce and part of a smoothie, made from milk and frozen strawberries, peaches, and bananas. She was on her way to recovery, but she looked sickly and pale. By the end of my workday, however, she was up and moving around, albeit slowly. I was relieved to see her condition had improved.
After work, I made my wife some soup, by which I mean I opened a can of soup and heated it on the stove. My wife ate a serving and then laid down for a nap. I laid down next to her in bed, tired from being awake for most of the night. I dozed, but I knew if I fell asleep at 6:30, then I probably would not wake until the next morning. So, I checked in with my wife, kissed her goodbye, and made the five-minute drive to the reservoir.
The drive to Buckhorn energized me. It was a beautiful evening and the time change and earth’s shifting orbit gave me almost two more hours of sunlight than I had just a few months ago. For the first time since fall, I drove with the windows down, and music turned up, noting several farms had cleared and tilled their fields.
There was something about spring fishing that made me happy. While I enjoyed fishing year round, spring reminded me of my first adventures at Buckhorn Reservoir, where I rekindled my love for the sport. I still felt new to the area, but I had fond memories of my first year in North Carolina that brought an enormous smile to my face.
When I pulled into the parking area that gives you the first view of the water, I knew it was going to be a pretty sunset. I grabbed my gear and found a place along the pier, baited my hook, and cast my line. The fish would be more active once the water warmed, but the water was still a little too cold. While there were only a few good bites on my line, the gorgeous sunset kept my eyes busy.
Most people think sunsets all look the same, but that wasn’t at all true. At the Buckhorn Reservoir alone, I had witnessed at least a hundred sunsets, and the difference in each one impressed me. This evening was special. The sun had moved close to the horizon and cast a distinct golden color on the water that lit the crests of the waves in the bright light. The undersides of the waves, however, reflected the opposite side of the sky, which made them look deep blue and even teal in some places. This made the water two distinct colors that complimented each other perfectly. Several times, I set my rod down and took pictures with a point and shoot camera I carry.
As the sun touched the horizon, the west side of the lake added a third color to the water, a deep burned orange. I noticed a man walking toward me on the pier. He stopped about ten feet from me, kneeled down, and started photographing the sunset with his phone. We struck up a conversation about sunsets, fishing, and farming.
The man was a farmer in nearby Kenly, and he told me that after work he liked to stop by the reservoir to see the sunset. A fellow enthusiast. His family farmed cotton, corn, sweet potatoes, and soybeans and we talked about catching crappie in the area. It was interesting to hear him talk about the rigors of farming and how many farms had closed their business because of government regulations that diminished their profits. He spoke about labor laws that required farmers to provide housing to field workers that met certain conditions. He was respectful towards the workers, but said the government regulations made it tough on their business. The man was congenial, however, and ended his rant, shrugged his shoulders, saying he supposed that farming had always been hard.
He told me about a family member who lived in Texas and traveled a lot. When she took vacations, she went to places like Paris, France. Then he admitted that if he had the money, he would do the same thing. While he was talking, I pulled in my first spring bass, a largemouth, about three inches long. I showed the man my trophy fish, and we both laughed. Then he shook his head, telling me he had sent a picture of the sunset, which was still glowing spectacularly, to his girlfriend, and her response was to ask him who he was with. The conversation ended with him telling me that all he needed in life was farming and fishing, and I told him it sounded like he had everything he needed.
I bid him farewell and wished him a good farming and fishing season. After a quick stop at the mailbox, I pulled down the long dirt drive that leads to my house. In my headlights was a herd of deer, their eyes glowing, staring at me. I drove past them and parked my car. The short time on the lake was a good ending to a busy day, and I looked forward to catching up on sleep.