Alyson Erickson
Mrs. S Trickle
English 1101
20 September 2014
The Magnificant Morning My dad shakes me awake, "If you don't get up now, all the fish will be gone! Hurry up or I'll leave you in the dust!" I stumble out of bed, grabbing my clothes, I fumble and trip as I hurriedly get ready. I run down to the dock, which seems like an eternity, but I finally get to the crammed little fishing boat where my dad is already waiting. Going fishing with my dad is my only escape from reality, where I can feel myself become calm, and get to enjoy life for awhile. After which seemed like an eternity, the dilapidated boat reacher the destination, a little nook on the lake that only my dad and I know about. We get there just as the glorious sun begins to rise. My dad and I watch in awe as the golden sun starts to peak out from the hundreds of trees lining the lake. As the sun hits the water, it looks like a million gold coins are falling into the lake, just brilliantly beautiful. No matter how many times I go fishing, I still can noget over how magnificent nature really is. Once we get settled in to our spot on the lake, I can already sense this is going to be a magificant morning. Knowing there is only a tiny window of time to get the most out of fishing, I rapidly bait my hook with one of the slimy black leaches my dad bought the day before. Three pesky flies swarm around me, I try and try again swatting them away, but I soon give up because they keep coming back like persistent warriors. Once I ignore the flies and my dad stops doubling over in laughter, we both cast our lines on opposite sides of the boat. Leisurely, I bob the line up and down. As I sit back in the uncushioned, rickidy chair, I let my mind drift off. I turn my head towards the standing weeds by the shore. Until now, I never realized how much life surrounds, what I thought was, just some land and water. I see a profuse amount of damselflies soaring in and out of the wild rice and weeds, almost as if they are playing tag.
Down below, on the lily pads, two warted, jungle green frogs croak at one another, probably having a conversation about how the troublesome bugs keep getting in their way. I snicker at myself because I can not believe I just thought of something that childish. Soon a graceful loon makes its way over to the weeds. The frogs ubruptly stop all noises and the bugs magically disappear. It seems as if the loon is the ruler of this area, they all fall silent for her, just a crowd would for Prince Harry and Princess Kate. She dips into the water looking for her morning meal and vanishes from the surfaces. Then, I look beyond the water, towards shore. A small, almost blueberry colored blue jay catches my eye. He bounces up and down the shore line in search of powerless bug or worm.
He catches one, quickly gobbles it up and flies back into the trees, hidden from my view. On one of the great and ancient oak trees, cubby chimpmuck and crazy