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Writer's pictureEric Clark Jackson

Last Light at Lover's Point


It's a strange irony that sunset is on the one hand so routinely expected and on the other hand so unexpectedly sublime. The most impressive ones being those which couldn't possibly get more impressive until they do. I had the pleasure of being on the water for this impressive show, when the last crescendo brightened the air almost back to daylight, before settling down into the night.


Sometimes everything going on is a labor of love, sometimes it's a labor of labor. On nights like this, there's no labor at all, just love. I've poured a lot of time (and gas money) into everything over the past 9 months to be sure, but at this point I can't imagine doing anything else. There are moments of doubt, of course, moments when I say it'd just be easier if I turned the other way and went to cut grass (which is a very real dream of mine too). But then there's times like these, when I'm out on the water, the sun is setting in a blaze of color, and I'm tying a little swim shad to my leader because the Heddon Spook is too big for these little bluefish.



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