We had adopted three of our grandchildren
And I needed some fun activity we could do
Like fishing for, no, like catching, fish in a pond
So we drove up to the trout catching place
On Mount Hood.
It was a success. We each caught a trout
Paid to have them cleaned and
Took them home in a bag of ice.
I mean, we got our poles, bait, and net
Then we chose a pond based on the size of fish
We wanted to take home and eat
The ponds were marked as to size
Of fish found within. No problem, right?
Kids were five, six and nine, or there abouts
But this adventure built up there expectations
How could I match this experience at the coast
Where there was a little lake where folks fished
At Woods Lake we came with our own poles
And bait and net and lures and camp stools
We were ready to catch fish, although I
Had worried all the way over…
Would we “catch”, or just “fish?”
My rep as father was on the line,
though I had never fished with my own father.
It was mom who took me and my brother to a cabin
On the Cache la Poudre River to catch trout.
So, nothing to lose, I baited their hooks and toss them
Into the little lake, to wait, and pray, for success
Bam! A trout hit Jac’s line
Bam! A trout hit Ashley’s line
Bam! Teddy’s too
I could not believe my luck. My rep was safe
So I asked at the Marina in Pacific City
Why was the fishing so good at Woods Lake?
“Well,” they said, ” there was supposed to be a Trout Derby nearby,
But it was canceled, so they brought the trout here
And to Hebo Lake too.”
Thank you, Jesus!