Seasonal Adjustments

We are nearing the middle of October and there is no escaping the fact that the dry fly season is waning once more.

I looked back at my log this morning in an attempt to register the events of this autumn’s fishing with last year’s, which seems so bright in memory. Yes, there were special days last October. Twenty twenty-three has been quiet by comparison.

On Wednesday, I spent the last hour at an old haunt, and the river teased me with images of an awakening. I committed Thursday to taking advantage of that activity, only to find those fish were ghosts. In one beautiful run, I finally accepted that no trout were coming to the dry fly. Before I walked out, I knotted a cinnamon bodied soft hackle to my tippet and swung it through that run.

There are times when you hope for a trout without really expecting one. I was caught hoping I guess, reacted a bit instead of calmly allowing the bump to become a pull. The rod grew heavy, alive and intense, but for only a moment. Long enough to realize I had something worthwhile, though not lasting enough to be truly enjoyed. Of course, my subsequent swings took on more purpose, but the moment was singular and had passed. There have been a number of those these past few weeks.

I have the task of making seasonal adjustments before me, and I must do a better job of making them. Time is short, but there may be a handful of those singular moments that are yet to be revealed. It is past time to make peace with the inevitable passing of another season, to calm my mind and concentrate on the beauty and wonder before me. That is the path to touching the magic again before the shadow of winter falls!