Virginia Haibun

 

    The church-bells in Virginia remind me of the fig trees, turning hourly and purple in the heat of a guileless and prodigal summer. 

    Whatever the inverse of a flower really is, with the soul in it's mortal coils or a dead wasp 

    Trying to break out and sweetening itself in the process 

    So that when you bite into the soft, seedy, sappy little bell and the honey drips down your tongue with all the perfections of the Age of Moses with it. 

    The ringing brings in the dolphins and their careless chatters 

    All as I marinate myself in the old colonial salty waters of the Chesapeake Bay with all the crabs and their remarkable sense of eternity that everything raised by the ocean has been embedded with since the day that they were born. 

    The stinging that accompanies my many bug bites while standing in the ocean feels like a baptism or exorcism, letting the salt burn away anything with the semblance of being terrestrial. 

    Fiddlers sway as the 

    Marsh elders and tall grasses 

    Drink the salt and pray

Elderberry Season 2025

 

    It's officially elderberry season here on the East Coast, a season about as bittersweet as the waning of summer. The nights have been quite cold, at a time where it was hard to remember what cold really feels like. In the meantime, Elderberries are deepening their bottomless irises of blacks and purples. I went to a spot shown to me by a friend and was greeted by hanging clusters forcing the branches to stoop and bow to the soil that raised them. 

    Black Elderberry (Sambuchus nigra) can be identified by hanging clusters of white flowers, green unripe berries, or purple ripe berries come August, usually with reddish stalks and opposite arranged, slightly compound leaves. The species is generally found around trailside disturbed habitat, likes water, and is chock full of great immune system boosting antioxidants. However, it is not advised to consume the species raw. 

    To make a great elderberry syrup, simply cook the berries down with a little water, stir in some ginger and clove, strain, then stir in some raw honey to sweeten and thicken. Taking a spoonful a day will help boost your immune system as the days shorten and mornings become so crisp you can reach out and snap the morning dew. 

Lost Muskie Musings

 

    I lost a muskie this morning. I timed the window oh, so fucking perfectly too, with mornings that for the first time in months were crisp and cold that suspended a slight mist above the river, an uptick in flows and downtick in water temps, and a lunar major that coincided with the rising of the sun. I woke up at six and immediately drove down to the river, throwing topwater and figure-8-ing after each cast. 

    Hopping spots, skipping around back and forth like a little rippling flatstone between all the river spots that at this point I've fished for so many years and know like the back of my hand. I had a small muskie barely tail-smack my glide that I missed. Still kept moving down river, moving to a canal lock where I'd seen them stack up in the mouth of before. I watched my bone colored glidebait swipe left past a tree, then watched a giant muskie swipe right out of the tree and t-bone it. I had her one for about five seconds before my line suddenly went slack. My 50lb flourocarbon leader looked like hell. I sunk to the ground in defeat, immediately called Max and told him what happened. If that glidebait had just popped out of it's toothy maw I wouldn't have been so upset, but the fact that it broke off had me worried that it wouldn't be able to properly feed with such a large bait stuck in its jaw. However, I've seen videos of fish with practically no upper jaw, muskies with what look with propeller wounds, slash marks, all ilk of injury. We should do our best to conserve and handle well all fish we plan on releasing, but nature is a tough bitch and fish are hardier than we think. I'm gonna muskie fish more and that means I will lose more fish. 

    Muskie fishing is one of the most adversarial things I've ever had the privilege of becoming obsessed with. That's something that I will just have to accept if I'm going to become a member of the muskie guild, which is a full intention that I have. 

    Muskie anglers have an obsession like no other breed of angler on the planet, following moon phases about as closely as the mouthless Luna moths I've been finding the past few days at work. Lunas don't feed in their adult form, packing all feeding activity into the walnuts while in larval form in the July full moon and then emerging two to three weeks later glowing green under the moonlight to breed and dance and die. 

    Embrace loss, both mouthed and unmouthed. Life's a blessing to have lost at all! How lucky you are to have such things to lose.