Smith Family Weblog

Last week, when the actual air temperature hit 113 degrees and water from the sprinkler evaporated before it even hit the sidewalk, the summer felt truly unbearable.

My dad called last Wednesday morning, suggesting we meet near Sabetha for an afternoon of fishing on Pony Creek Lake. Despite a forecast high of 97 degrees, I decided to move a few meetings and head north. I’m glad I did–the temperature dropped 10 degrees as I made my way toward the Nebraska border, and a breeze kept us relatively cool that afternoon.

We had a great time–the lake was quiet and gorgeous, and I very much enjoyed spending the day with Dad.

While the fish weren’t biting, the flies were. At one point I said, “When flies bite, doesn’t that mean it’s going to rain?” He responded, “Nope, it means the flies are biting.”A fair point, I suppose, as evidenced by the fact it didn’t actually rain.

But, yesterday–a day after the incredible heat finally broke–I found myself relatively certain it was going to rain . . . no old wives’ tales needed.