We have passed the thirty-day milestone in the countdown to dry fly bliss as we sit upon the brink of the March blizzard my unsettled thoughts warned me about. Eight days from the vernal equinox and the thermometer reads 19 degrees here in Crooked Eddy.
The local forecast I trust the most calls for just more than ten inches of new snow between Monday afternoon and Wednesday morning, though by Friday they expect a high of 48 degrees. That spells high, cold, muddy water in my river oriented mind, something I was looking forward not to having as spring made it’s official debut. I don’t begrudge the mountains a little late snowpack, its just that I would rather it hang around and feed the springs slowly rather than vanish in a heavy rush of runoff.
Nature will bring us what she will.
I have slowed my fly tying during the past week. With my donation flies completed and my boxes fully stocked (some too fully), my attention has shifted. Welcome to that uncomfortable stage of winter when anticipation overcomes patience. I have done a little work around the house, worried about upcoming medical appointments, read a lot and fidgeted, with nothing able to hold my attention for any length of time. I need to go fishing!
My hand needs to wrap the cork of a favorite bamboo rod and my fingers are ready to tie the knot to join fly and tippet…
I wonder about the river conditions twenty-nine days from now. Will the winds do their worst, or will the season begin with fair, calm days? I’d like to begin with the Leonard and give a nod to Catskill tradition. The Leonard and a Quill Gordon dry fly on the Beaver Kill, yes, I like the image of that, the day overcast but with an hour of sunshine as evening draws near…
Bright Waters Catskill 