Gaaaaagaroom! Room! Room! My dad started the Ford and raced the engine a couple times before backing out of the driveway. He had to leave early to be ready for early surgery. I had dug some angle worms from the garden and was headed across the street to the wooden dock to catch some perch for breakfast. A fish tug was headed along the channel with its Kahlenberg puffing dark gray exhaust with each glug, glug, glug along with the cacophony of clucks and screams from the entourage of herring gulls, circling, diving and splashing to feast on the discarded parts of the fish which were being cleaned on board. The fog had lifted from the bay but over the lake a blanket remained and the diapason of the fog horn could be heard. MooUmp. MoooooooooUmp.
The great blue heron reluctantly lifted his body aloft with slow flaps of large wings as he cuved his neck, pulled his head back and stretched his long legs out behind. I thumped along the wooden dock, baited my hook and tossed it plop! into the water. Soon I was carrying a stringer of perch back across the road to the picnic table in the back yard to clean and scale them. Then into the kitchen to brown some butter in the skillet, roll the perch in flour, salt and pepper, and fry them in the brown butter.
It doesn’t get much better than that.
Wednesday’s Prompt: Add two or more examples of onomatopoeia into your post. Post poetry, prose, a memoir, nonfiction, or an essay.