Karl Seckinger

Karl "Trout Whisperer" Seckinger is an outdoor enthusiast and resides in northeastern Minnesota.

Wire…d

Posted by: Karl Seckinger Updated: August 28, 2012 - 6:52 AM
Everything on top, and nothing handy: is an old, perhaps ancient in this day of give it to me now thinking, nautical term for a ship mate’s personal chest being highly disorganized after many months at sea. Kinda the last thing out, first thing back in, messy, disheveled and that’s what’s become of my august. I’m just thankful it’s finally coming to an end. My yard, it’s not what I hoped for or planned this spring, some of the plantings did amazing things, like drowned in the spring, what survived, burned off in the heat of summer and the rest of the enigmatic edible annuals I had to fence in a weird floral compound to confound of all things, cottontail rabbits that deer just hopped over and dined on anyhow. I mean who knew green beans would be such a test of my will. Kept the rabbits out fine, just made it easier for the deer to feed on and what, not me, the guy I raised them for. This fall something with four feet is gonna get deep sixed. 2 Boats in the last week developed leaks I patched with marine glue and will need rivets before next year to be permanently repaired and back in working order that won’t overwork my nerves, but with firewood season fast approaching I’m wishing, hoping, praying the glue will hold for just a few more open water weeks. And to add to the kindling pile at no extra charge, I added a paddle I broke in the pole shed, not on a canoe trip, that’s not worth repairing. I have a quarter of my deck stained, why, rain, to hot, humidity, oh hey, one nice day in a row. I didn’t feel like staining, half the driveway resealed, repeat last sentence. Until the day it really poured and I remember that day was memorable because I broke my leg on memorial day then with one good drum stick of my own and most of two chicken coops repaired after the great chicken massacre of the first full moon in august, the remaining chickens are freshly compounded, in you guessed it, wire, with my greatest hopes they are still with me after the last full moon, only days away. Chickens that had one job, lay me some eggs, its more than ironic how that turned-out, I’m left with one hen and three roosters. Think I’m looking forward to the next full moon of glow, well, I’ve got a scoped rifle, a really tall slender goblet that will shimmer in the nights light and be brim filled with scotch that sez any coyote in my yard gets his pelt leaded, and for good, then stretched on a long wire to await a final tanning. The trout whisperer

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