We had pretty high hopes that day. Ok so maybe he didn’t, but I sure did. I was determined to go home with at least 25 “keepers”. It was a gorgeous day of sunshine and shellfish. Sitting along a rock wall down by the coast in the lovely historic town of Clinton, CT, we waited and waited. Trying to be patient but failing miserably, we pulled the traps up every 15 minutes when we were supposed to wait 30. In between trap set downs we munched on a platter of fried fish – scallops, shrimp, cod, and clams – dipping each piece either in cocktail sauce or tartar sauce. And we waited some more. Quietly, contemplatively. It was a perfect day to relax and enjoy one of these last days of summer. The breeze began getting brisk as we pulled our traps up one last time. To say the least, we are not fisherman by nature, but that day it didn’t really matter. I went to go crabbing but somewhere between fried scallops and lost traps I realized that, really, it wasn’t so much about the crabs as it was about us. What mattered more than catching buckets full of the little devils was spending time together, soaking up a bit of sunshine, and enjoying some quality time. With the smell of raw chicken on our hands, as the sun began to set, we bid summer goodbye. Together. And we laughed at the fact that more money was spent on chicken drumsticks rather than just purchasing a crab or two. Because at the end of the day, despite our efforts, only one guy got extremely unlucky and would soon become part of dinner.