Unsuccessful Fishing

This post is for #SublimeSunday is inspired by Hive account@c0ff33a and #BeautifulSunday is initiated by Hive account@ace108

Rains and more rains. This week, a hole formed in the sky and a stream of water poured through it onto our sinful land. In particular, a lot of water was spilled on June 23; on that day, the monthly precipitation rate fell.
The sky began to clear up last night, so I woke up at 5 a.m. today, looked out the window, and decided to go to the river with a spinning rod.
I decided not to follow a straight road but a longer one, so as not to get wet in the tall, damp grass. As I approached the riverbank, I saw that in early June, the water level was much lower and the flow was weaker. Approaches to the water's edge are also difficult.
But I managed to catch one small perch and was glad of it. Of course, I released the fish into its native element, the river.

I waved the spinning rod for 30 minutes, walked a little along the shore, and decided that there was no point in trying to fish any further. So I went home. There are a lot of rosehips this year, and they are already finishing blooming.

Grass, grass, grass all around. I need to find a path through this grass. There are no signs of its presence.

Nature doesn't like emptiness. I first found myself in this meadow around 1993 in the summer. All the grass had been mowed, and there were stacks. Now is the time to harvest hay, but no one mows the grass here now; there are still a lot of wild rose bushes, wild apple trees, mountain ash, and other trees. Agriculture has died in our region, and no one keeps cows, sheep, goats, or rabbits at home. This is a very troublesome, labor-intensive business that does not make a profit.

There were no chamomiles in this place about 10 years ago, but now there is a large clearing of these flowers.

Meadow geranium. It's good that there's now a smart camera service on the Internet. I took a photo of a plant, bird, or animal, uploaded the photo to this service, and we can get an answer.

Road, where are you?
My youngest daughter and I rode bicycles here 5 years ago, and this year the grass reaches up to my shoulders in some places and the road is completely invisible. Two weeks ago, I was walking my dog here quite comfortably.