Brim Fish Nesting

I have a new friend named Larrie. Her family thought they were having one very large boy they would name Larry. They had triplet girls. She got to be Larrie.

Riding around her and her husband’s pond in a golf cart, she asked if I could smell anything. I took a deep breath and smelled a dead ripe watermelon. She smiled and nodded. “That's it. Either you smell it, or you don't. The brim fish are nesting.”

I haven’t been fishing since we were behind the levy at the culvert where the bank is deep, and I stayed put. JB gave me a cane pole. I moved it to the right for him to bait. He doesn’t need to know I can do it. I’d put it in the water, catch a crappie and move it back for him to take off. Guys on the bank had all kinds of advice about how I should fish, but none of them were catching any.

Larry took us to their garden. Silver Queen corn had been harvested. Field corn was at its end. Butter beans, peaches, pears, apples and tomatoes needed rain. Deer ate their purple hulled peas. The figs will fill out with rain.

Larry had cut field corn off the cob, put it in a skillet with butter and milk and let it cook slow. I didn't see how such a small amount could feed the four of us, but it swelled up as it and we had leftovers. We all liked it. I thought of hominy and my grandmother telling how they soaked corn in a lye solution and put it on a shed roof to dry.

Larry shared her secret for fried green tomatoes: slice them thin and place them on ice; it crisps them. They were perfect. Good job, Larrie!

JB sent me to Walmart the other morning to purchase a deepfryer. It seems industrial sized, but he has a big family and right off we had company for a catfish fry with hushpuppies. I cut one Idaho potato for fries and one sweet potato in rounds. One guest, Hank, a young welder from the coast, breaded both kinds of potatoes in the catfish breading and fried them, too. With coleslaw, fresh tomatoes, baked beans and good company, we had a perfect summer evening by Lake-T'Okhata (T-o-kata).

Larry invited me to go brim fishing. My handmade pole burned in JB's fire, but she said she has plenty; I can hardly wait.

2009 Red Convertible Travel Series