Saturday evening we followed some friends down a long sandy road, through a forest of tall pines, and emerged on the rocky shore of the brackish New River, just in time for sunset. The next few hours were spent swapping fish stories, dining on grilled steak, and stargazing, all with lines in the water.
Our intended catch? The mighty red drum.
My beau hauled in a fine specimen nearly too big to keep! We're looking forward to a fish dinner very soon.
Despite my patience, the only fish I've caught recently is that vintage planter I'm mooning over in my opening photograph, which I picked up the weekend before last at a nearby resale shop. This recent fish planter purchase brings my fish planter collection up to four, all of which are still seeking a purpose.
Saturday evening felt a bit like fall, which meant I was able to wear one of my favorite, and one of my only, sweatshirts. This shirt was a hand-me-down before it was handed down to me. Passed from one neighbor (the actual Cornell alumnus) to another, it was used to warm a little red-haired girl (me) on a chilly evening many years ago. Now worn thin and coming apart at the seams, it is, I dare say, the single most comfortable thing I own, and it was just the thing for a night of fishing beneath the stars.