Mercury Retrograde and fishing

Subtitle: Trifecta of underachievers
It was an idllic weekend, sort of an “end of summer” trip to the coast. Not like the Texas Gulf Coast is really that far away, either, just a short jaunt.

Mercury was vehemently retrograde at the time, and that got me thinking, as I skimmed through old material, getting ready to launch the next book-like project.

One (1): I should collect all my Mercury material and make it a textbook for dealing with that planet’s energies.

Two (2): The metaphor. So many. Too many to list.

The fish were there. Great trip, from a relaxation point. Got up early a couple of mornings, like, at 5 AM, wandered out to the pier, pulled up the bait bucket, and snagged a fresh shrimp, tossed it out. Got undersized trout. Later, got an undersized Red. Finally, at 5 AM the final day, I landed three undersized Mangrove Snappers.

The five in the morning time was essential to another part of the trip, a special, added bonus. Right before sunrise, two mornings, there was the thinest sliver of the moon, one morning, framing Jupiter perfectly. Whip out the iPhone, whip out the camera, and not many of my lame attempts at photography succeeded. Not that it matters, because that was another part of the Mercury message.

It’s not about the net result, it’s about the effort.

Reflections
fgsIMG_0797
(original image)

Red. Tiny Red. Rat Red.
fgsFishIMG_0800
(original image)

Moon/Jupiter/Sunrise
fgsSkyHPIM2185
(original image)

I would’ve missed the sunrise, if I hadn’t been fishing, and I wouldn’t be fishing, if it wasn’t Mercury Retrograde. The fish might’ve been bigger, but that’s a small matter.

The last morning, I tried time-lapse, set the camera on the rail, varied the speed and killed the flash, as there was major thunderstorm, off the coast.

Out past the barrier island, North Padre, Mustang, &c.? The sun was fitfully trying to rise up and the clouds were beating it back. In the magic before the sunrise, the tall thunder clouds would light up with huge bolts of lightening.

The gods were loud and clear, in that moment.

About the author: Born and raised in a small town in East Texas, Kramer Wetzel spent years honing his craft in a trailer park in South Austin. He hates writing about himself in third person. More at KramerWetzel.com.

  • elaine ireland Sep 27, 2009 @ 16:24

    Great picture…love your writing. Why don’t you write a novel soon? hugs, elaine ireland

  • Kramer Sep 27, 2009 @ 16:55

    Have a novel, looking for an agent/publisher. There are three other texts by me available here.

    Thanks!

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