Last night heard the geese start to head south while traffic headed north, back to the city. Only one more week.until our summer ends. So we’re making the best of it, with small, clean waves in the cool mornings, searching for rails and other strange birds at dusk. The end of summer happens every year and still, when it does, it feels like I’ve been mugged.
The goal of the summer is to surf, catch a fish, write, do something kind, and see a Rail Bird every day. So far, the rails are the only constant.
Column in today’s Daily Journal about Jersey, nature, mobsters and that lost summer in Seaside Heights.
Days like these start on the water, searching for Sea Trout, who show their dorsal fins, steal bait, and refuse to get in the boat.
The Snapper and Jacks are greedier, hook themselves and take an ice bath before their filets get dipped in Cajun seasoning and their carcasses thrown to the pelicans and catfish.
It’s only noon and I already wish these days would never end. But they do, with the promise that tomorrow could be even better.