Winter’s Progress

I need my calendars. Each winter I design my calendar for the new year and place my order, previously filled almost instantly a short walk away. It seems the drug store photo shop has changed their ideas, now requiring me to wait weeks for the calendars to be printed elsewhere and shipped here. I do not consider that progress.

I was thinking now, with Christmas Eve a week away that I am nearing the point of a countdown to spring. I had to borrow a mid-year calendar from Cathy to check my dates and, sure enough, Day 100 arrives on December 28th.

There lies a milestone. I put some stock into that 100-day threshold, a certainty arrives with it that winter shall have an end, and spring a new beginning. That calendar will of course show spring arriving in March as always, but the true angler’s spring arrives with the beginning of the dry fly season.

I mark that traditionally on the first Monday of the second week in April. That will not be the first day I will knot a Quill Gordon to my tippet and search for the season’s first rise, though it will mark the first day I honestly expect to see one.

The turn of the weather will dictate my ramblings astream, most likely with that first warming trend in March. Yes, the winds will blow, and the warmth will be weak and short-lived, but by the time my count has reached thirty days I will take any opportunity to assail the river, even a false one.

I have a store of fresh memories to guide me through the false signs along the road to spring. First there will come that hint of green on brown riverbanks, then the warmth of the afternoon sun will penetrate the insulated shirts and jackets and truly reach the stiff muscles in my neck and shoulders. Finally, the early stoneflies will fill the air at seemingly opportune moments, and I will stare for hours across the surface trying to convince myself and the trout that there will be a rise!

Dry fly season comes variably each year, so I always cling to the hope that one of these false signs will suddenly blossom into tiny gray wings drifting upon the surface and a spreading ring reflecting the sunlight.