It's not all about the bike!

Well, not all the time, anyway. Things are hoppin' around Central Arkansas these days, so much so that I haven't done a great job keeping up with reporting events, much less participating in all of the things that interest me.
Among the many things that I didn't do were the Arky100, the Heber Springs Tri at the Lake, the Spokes Orbea demo, and the Clinton Park Bridge dedication. I did manage to get some time on my bike, made the first CARVE winter ride a couple of  Saturdays ago, toured the new bridge, visited the Two Rivers Bridge at night for the first time, and attended a recent BACA meeting. I pretty well skipped riding last weekend in order to spend Friday evening through Sunday at our place on the Little Red near Heber Springs, only saddling up to preview the short bike course for the Heber tri with my friend Chris Irons. Obviously, Chris was paying close attention to my style as we scouted, as he won his division on Sunday. I don't know how to take credit for his run and swim legs, but I'll think of something.
Like many of us, I start getting a little anxious about bike time during the fall. The days are getting shorter, weekends are filled with other demands and my appetite seems to crave fare that is better suited for hibernation prep than for long hours in the saddle. Last weekend, for at least one weekend, I just let riding go and fully enjoyed sleeping in until past dawn on a cool Sunday morning, eating cheese dip, counting fish caught instead of miles, and simply soaking up some of life's many little pleasures. Other than the short Saturday ride, my weekend was devoted to tilling up some new garden spots, getting some fall planting done, trimming tree limbs, mowing a few acres, trout fishing in the river, bream fishing in the pond, watching football, and eating all the wrong stuff.

Along with my nephew Jack and his buddy Kyle, Diane and I harvested some big bluegill from our pond.

There is no chance of this crew missing a bite! Diane is an excellent fisherman, but she has nothing on Willie when it comes to focusing on the bobber, here wading in for a closer look. He has fallen off of the dock a couple of times in his excitement over a caught fish.

Willie has little interest in trout, leading brother Frank to deem him a redneck hound. I think Willie knows that our trout fishing is catch-and-release and he's all about eating something.

There is no better eating than bream fillets and very few things more fun than fishing with some capable 12-year old boys. Remarkably, all of my companions had disappeared when it came time to clean the fish. My expectation is that they'll be back just in time for a fish fry.


Now, it's back to the bike or I'll be fat before Thanksgiving. And Diane is baking cookies.