Temperature: 72 degrees.
Water: like glass.
Walleye: not biting.
But sometimes that doesn’t matter.
It gives you time to contemplate the sky and the clouds . . .
. . . and your hand.
And it gives you time to reflect that it’s the end of August, so summer is almost over.
Every fall for the past 32 years, my stomach was in knots every Sunday night: Am I ready for my classes on Monday morning? Are my lesson plans ready for the week? Are all those stacks of papers I brought home on Friday graded?