Sprung?

It is the first day of spring 2024 and it is twenty-six degrees here in Crooked Eddy. The grass bears evidence of a few flurries, and the Weather Channel is all a-bubble about snow and wind and rain; all of the anti-fly-fishing things Mother Nature is poised to bring forth. Leave it to the lady and her Red Gods to punish us for daring to covet the thought of an early spring. Wasn’t it just Saturday that I watched a Quill Gordon rising from the river in the sunshine?

I tied half a dozen QG wets yesterday, all save one of them using my Atherton Inspired dubbing blend, a sinful activity borne of desperation and remorse! Indeed, this is the most difficult stretch of the long wait between seasons, teased for months by milder temperatures and warmer waters, I can see that first rise to my dry fly before me. It is not to be.

Winter will have her due.

And so, I will continue with preparations. There is a new number three fly line to be spooled on a classic Hardy Featherweight, and there is no rule that dictates I cannot tie the terrestrials and the tiny duns of summer. I will make the appointment for my boat trailer’s inspection, uncover it and make it ready for fishing, for the reservoirs continue to spill. With more rain on the way, the season may begin with a solo float. Heavy precipitation will bring a return to unfishable conditions for the wading angler, and the projections seem to favor that result.

I left my name for the Angler’s Reunion Dinner, March’s last event and a grand Rockland House feast welcoming April, and before that night baseball will return with games that count. Life will continue to move slowly as winter grudgingly leaves us, though angler’s hearts will beat faster each day.