pike perch caught
Ponds for the yearning fisherman – a lifesaver, a priority opportunity to take your soul on ice fishing. Seven pikes on the pond in half a day.
Small lakes and ponds are glazed, ice covered unexpectedly quickly. On the rivers and in the bays of the reservoir, too, is a conditional pristine ice. Conditional due to the fragility and unreliability of ice. Somewhere you can safely walk and even run through the transparent bottomlessness, but in places every step was accompanied by a bang. A seemingly monolithic firmament was leaving and bending from under its feet. And from this choking and fading ice, the soul grew colder. Still, not twenty years old when everything was nothing. In addition, there is more than one cold bathing, both under the ice and in open water.
We are going to the pond. Morning is already turning blue in the windows of the car, sleepy copses and black tropes of fields and meadows flicker. Arable land and dry grass are barely covered by snow. The thaw bared them even more, the clayman spread it into the shiny mud, and from the damp fog of grass and Chernobyl it seemed as if they were silvered with many small drops. But the village pond has some kind of cold little world, apparently from close ice and openness to all winds. It is bordered by snow, as if in a frame. And the ice is also grayish-gray from a thin layer of snow. Continue reading