We reeled up and took a break, as the heat of the day came on and the children lay in the shallows and pulled themselves, frog-like, along the gumbo-mud bottom. The early-morning stringer of cats and smallmouth was tethered to a clump of willow. Our creaky one-eyed bulldog Molly, scarred veteran of porcupine fights, coyote snares, and 12 years of generally poor decisions, splashed out and pawed at them until we yelled at her to stop. This was our June 21st, the longest day of the year. The sound and furious sadness of oil spills and places threatened, or lost and mourned, can stop for a few of these light-filled days. Summertime is laid out like a feast on a table. Go get lost in it. Luxurious light, for hours of fishing after work, or before work, or after the garage is roofed and the corn hoed. Hours for sitting on the bank with a line out and watching the whirling constellations of lightning bugs as the dark finally settles down on the green earth. Shellcrackers are popping around the cypress stumps at Dead Lakes in Florida, and the first hoppers are misjudging the wind and falling to big rainbows on Wyoming's Clark's Fork of the Yellowstone. From 3 weights and glitter midges to jug lines and tobby (catalpa) worms, now is the time.