Woman Midwest-style

Fishing is best with minimal conversation while occasionally changing bait to best match the fish’s patterns… listen … let the breeze and warmth of kinship guide us.          I love fishing.  I literally feet the tug on the line as I dreamed I was fishing.  Fishing dreams are said to have a religious context, but fishing dreams for me are damn near as much fun as the real thing !          At the time I wrote this, there was four days of fluffy snow blanketing the ground.  And more was forecast before the day became tomorrow.  February in Missouri is a plethora of sleet and snow, then a warmish spell teases us of spring.  Then comes fishing.   That time of year I lust for Crappie fishing after all morning turkey hunting so I dreamed of yanking Crappie out of the icy clear waters, a frosty chill to the wind as winter yields to spring on its last breath.  But in the Midwest, we must first endure black ice road conditions as night’s freezing rain solidifies on bridges a

Bass are definitely a blast to catch and as beautiful as the artwork portrays.   It brought back this vivid memory of the froggy lure. Summer Bass     I didn't have a boat but usually didn't need one.  Fishing northern Missouri farm ponds, whenever and wherever my buddies and I fished usually produced some fine Largemouth.  I was in 'dog-heaven' fishing anytime, anywhere.      It was a very sultry, hot day in August 1996 that I decided to go fish a pond down the highway.  Only around the curve from my house a ways.  Once inside the gate off the gravel road, if it hadn't rained, my truck could easily maneuver down the slope, over the berm and be out of site from the road. Total privacy.  No trash left behind, no kids running around, no disturbance.  It was actually too damn hot of a day for most sane folks to stand on a bank sweltering in 100 degree sun.  But I was headstrong and tough, sought some adventure, tired of the indoors A/C.    

In Missouri, by mid-March Crappie are biting, then by April, I’ll toss out a line for bass. I would bass fish all year if the weather’d let me, if I could tolerate ice fishing. In spring, starting with worm, then minnows, graduating to plastic lures to tempt the elusive hawg out of the depths. Bass are wary and comfy in its deep hidey hole. In springtime, by the time the crappie slow down their spawn, they’ll move into deeper water, thus more of a challenge to catch, and then it’s the bass’s turn. Spawning bass very aggressively defend their breeding territory, but not so much biting on a tempting lure... Typical bass in spawn mode don’t even pick up the most enticing lure. If I do snag a mamma bass full of eggs, she gets promptly let go and the next cast is away from her nest. Sort of the unwritten rule of fishing, words of my beloved Grandma Shore that I abide by… After they spawn they’re ravenous and I’ve had such fun and luck to catch all sizes. Only onc

Fishing is best with minimal conversation while occasionally changing bait to best match the fish's patterns… listen... let the breeze and warmth of kinship guide us.      Surgery after surgery for over a year and a half, I've not been the outdoors gal that I'm accustomed to being.  That hasn't stopped me from dreaming.  Because I love fishing.  I literally felt the tug on the line as I dreamed I was fishing.  Fishing dreams are said to have a religious context, but fishing dreams for me are damn near as much fun as the real thing !          At the time I wrote this, there was four days of fluffy snow blanketing the ground.  And more was forecast before the day became tomorrow.  February in Missouri is a plethora of sleet and snow, then a warmish spell teases us of spring.  Then comes fishing.  That time of year I lust for Crappie fishing after all morning turkey hunting so I dreamed of yanking Crappie out of the icy clear waters, a frosty chill to