The Perfect Weekend

In his gripping, true, tale, The Perfect Storm, Sebastian Junger describes a combination of meteorological phenomena that came together in a way so rare as to create the type of storm seen only once a century, if that.

Thankfully, my perfect weekends lately come more frequently -- if not entirely routinely -- but they also rely on a combination of disparate elements that, together, create something rare.

And unlike the storm that swallowed the Andrea Gail, my perfect weekends are things of great joy. Take this past weekend, for instance.

It included an easy Friday-night dinner date with the adult I most like to spend time with. It was the perfect conclusion to a long work week.

Saturday, we paddled eight miles of the upper Guadalupe River with friends -- work, because it will be one of the stream segments profiled in Paddling Texas -- but the kind of work I'll take any old day. It's one of those perfect second jobs you hear about.

Saturday night it was off to Kerrville for a house concert at the home of cousins Paula and Marty. Bonnie Bishop put on a great show and I'm completely sold on house concerts as opportunities to hear live music. People actually listen!

Plus, Aunt Kathy and Uncle Bob were there, as were cousins Ray and Jordan ... good beer flowed freely and the food was great. Perfect.

Sunday, after a leisurely breakfast featuring the time-honored family recipe, "Snappy Eggs," Tam and I headed out for a Sunday drive.

Initially, I just wanted to see the Hill Country folding in on itself in the mist along the edges of Texas 16 west of Kerrville. From the top of the hill down to Kinky Friendman's Echo Hill Ranch is my favorite part of my favorite drive in the state. And it was beautiful. Perfect, even.

Since we were already there, we stopped at the first Hwy. 16 crossing of the crystal-clear Medina River.

I caught a beautiful 15-inch bass and a couple of sunnies, and Tamara caught two smallmouth bass -- her first. Honestly, we could have stopped right there and it would have been a perfect day.

But we kept going.

At Lost Maples State Natural Area, we hiked through a light rain up to the ponds on Can Creek and fished a little more.

On the way up, we spied a white-lined sphinx moth -- the so-called "hummingbird" moth -- sipping nectar from purple Prairie verbena along the edge of the trail.

Uncle Bob, not a dozen hours before, had described this intriguing little insect (he had seen it in Colorado) as we watched the hummingbirds at the feeders on Paula and Marty's porch. Perfect timing.

On the way back down, we watched for a while an unafraid Scrub jay go about its business, and then saw the jewel-like Indigo bunting on a feeder near the parking lot.

One bird I hadn't seen before, and one I hadn't seen in a very long time. Perfect.

Later, unwinding after the long road trip, I heard an Eastern screech owl trilling its "A" song over Bull Creek. What a lovely night sound, especially with a chorus of frogs in accompaniment. It was kind of the perfect end to a perfect weekend.

Sweet, live water with kayaks above and fish below; glimpses of nature's glory, primarily in blue -- blossoms and feathers; music, soulful and fresh and not 15 feet in front of me; catching up with family -- people I've known, and liked, literally all my life; the company of someone I've met only recently, a beautiful woman I'm proud to call my friend ... these are some of the things that, together, can make for a perfect weekend.

[About the photos: Happy paddlers on the upper Guadalupe River; me, with a Guadalupe bass-Smallmouth bass hybrid; Tamara in front of a spring falling into the Guadalupe; a white-lined sphinx moth sipping nectar from Prairie verbena; raindrops caught in a spider web; Blue-eyed grass, a member of the iris family.]