Fishing Life is Hard Work

On a good evening in June I can hear the frogs booming and croaking the instant I shut down the car in the parking lot a hundred yards from the pond in the middle of town. . . . By the time I've reached the end of the path, I've shut out the sounds of cars a hundred yards away on Main Street. For the next hour, the world will shrink to this little piece of water.
What could be better than to work ...