Posted: Sun Apr 22, 2012 05:25
Changing Seasons
Here at the University of Northern South Texas, we are keen observers of the changing seasons. My students at the Department of Redundancy Department take thorough notes as the annual Monarch butterfly return migration signals the colorful tail end (or maybe, wing tip) of spring, the annual migration south to Mexico giving way to a 5-generation breeding orgy on the way back to Canada, milkweed by milkweed.
Other signs of spring transitioning to summer abound. The local fish hatchery stocks the Guadalupe River and the tail waters of Canyon Lake Dam with trout. The hatch, here too, is similar to the caddis and gingerquill hatches in northern and western climes. Termed the rubber hatch, it manifests itself in bikini-clad coeds from the local colleges, floating the rivers in inner tubes and rafts and not a whole lot else, drinking beer and distracting trout fisherman with the colorful patterns of their skimpy bathing suits.
The waters are still cool at this stage, prompting Nuestra Señora de los Piqueños Pies Frios (Our Lady of Cold Feeties) to decline river float trips in favor of staying home and floating in the spa. Characteristically, as I put sausages and fajitas on the grill and refill her margarita, she waves her hand and orders, "Turn the water temperature up, would you please?"
I comply. Even though it's already hot enough for boiling bratwurst, I crank it up another five degrees... then sense a moment of truth.
Smiling, I slip a package of crab boil into the skimmer.
Here at the University of Northern South Texas, we are keen observers of the changing seasons. My students at the Department of Redundancy Department take thorough notes as the annual Monarch butterfly return migration signals the colorful tail end (or maybe, wing tip) of spring, the annual migration south to Mexico giving way to a 5-generation breeding orgy on the way back to Canada, milkweed by milkweed.
Other signs of spring transitioning to summer abound. The local fish hatchery stocks the Guadalupe River and the tail waters of Canyon Lake Dam with trout. The hatch, here too, is similar to the caddis and gingerquill hatches in northern and western climes. Termed the rubber hatch, it manifests itself in bikini-clad coeds from the local colleges, floating the rivers in inner tubes and rafts and not a whole lot else, drinking beer and distracting trout fisherman with the colorful patterns of their skimpy bathing suits.
The waters are still cool at this stage, prompting Nuestra Señora de los Piqueños Pies Frios (Our Lady of Cold Feeties) to decline river float trips in favor of staying home and floating in the spa. Characteristically, as I put sausages and fajitas on the grill and refill her margarita, she waves her hand and orders, "Turn the water temperature up, would you please?"
I comply. Even though it's already hot enough for boiling bratwurst, I crank it up another five degrees... then sense a moment of truth.
Smiling, I slip a package of crab boil into the skimmer.