I saw many sights and heard many sounds today. I got a late start, spending my morning on a musical remix of someone's poem. I am not sure the synthesizer beats work at all.
My computer keeps informing me I am almost out of memory, and yet I find that recital improbable. I must analyze this issue at leisure tomorrow.
On my way to lunch, I saw that the Bluebonnet Trail in Plano, a rather ordinary bicycle trail under the power lines, is anything but ordinary this year. They planted entire borders of Mexican Hat flowers, which are in the final stages of their peak bloom. I loved walking among them, snapping pictures.
I ate lunch at Firehouse Subs, which has become my favorite chain sandwich restaurant. The roast beef sandwich there always tastes deliciously non-processed.
A quirky rainstorm last night brought Lake Lavon five feet above its normal level, which provides for me the first truly conclusive proof that our drought is over. I thought it would be fun to go fishing by the Lake Lavon Dam, so as to grok the lake's fullness.
When I got there the water cascading from the dam was really a cool sight to behold.
Spectators gathered, niagara-ish, to watch and absorb its flowing aura. Two men showed me a stringer full of catfish they caught. I found a secluded corner, set up a lawn chair, and began to fish. I had a Jeeves omnibus with me, and I was pleased to sit amid wildflowers and butterflies, bobber bobbing.
A few more fellows came up to fish, and I began to get a "cheek to jowl" feeling. I decided to go to the ponds at Park Hill Prairie to fish. I drove the half an hour over there, and soon caught five fish. The two bass were very small, but they nonetheless leaped from the water as if they were trophy size fish on a fishing show set on the stunning-lunker-famed Lake Fork. I released all that I caught.
I then walked among the wildflowers on the trails. Mexican hat, Queen Anne's Lace, little penstemon-y looking things, susans, and gorgeous thistles were everywhere.
I saw a beautiful meadowlark, and the first hummingbird of the season. The birdsong surrounded me--the birds and I had the entire park to ourselves.
During my drive today, NPR did a feature on Elgar, and I remembered that it has been far to long since I've listened to Elgar. I wondered if the fashions now mean that I cannot fashionably admit that I love Elgar, Britten and Sibelius, not to mention Sousa,
but then I realized that I am not now nor have I ever been fashionable.
I sure did admire that stringer full of catfish. It called to me in the way that one's adolescence sometimes calls, but it's never quite clear that one is still home when these mental phones ring.
My wife and I met at San Miguel restaurant in McKinney for Tex-Mex, and now the evening stretches before us, an every prospect pleases.