The timing couldn’t have been more frustrating.

My most recent fishing trip followed a string of disappointing outings. The fishing over the past six weeks had been more puzzling than normal, resulting in days when one fish per hour seemed to be the best I could produce.

Then came the day earlier this week. Just when my expectations were bottoming out, the fish came out to play. Why, you ask, is that frustrating?

It is the timing. Just when the bite soared, my fishing time was reduced to, well, whenever the doctor says I can return to full activity.

I knew well that Sunday’s outing would be my last for several weeks as I had a date with a surgeon to fix a hernia. If you’ve gone under that knife, you know full well that you’ll be laying low for a while.

So every fish I boated that day

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