As the seasons turn...

Tomorrow is the last day of the meteorological winter of 2021-2022. Yesterday and today the high temperatures reached above freezing! We have [almost] survived another Minnesota winter. Soon we can look forward to once again eating at the Taylors Falls Drive-In!

But first we have to clean up winter’s accumulated detritus, mostly dead branches and dog droppings. I think it’s going to be a project to be picked at rather than a concentrated effort. It will feel good to make even a little progress rather than losing ground daily. [No, branches didn’t fall every day, but dogs were walked daily.]

caddis over tricos

Photo by J. Harrington

A small but enjoyable progress that did occur over the winter is I became more comfortable with my collection of trout flies. I’d been putting too much thought into trying to organize them by the species and time of year hatching occurs. From much of the reading I’ve done this winter, match the hatch can be a significant challenge, but there  are lots of times when successful fishing doesn’t depend on a major hatch. I’ll pay more attention to hatch matching after I’ve spent more time on and in the waters this year and have actually observed a hatch to match. Tricos in mid to late summer is all I’ve ever noticed, probably because I don’t spend enough time fishing!

The Song of Wandering Aengus

W. B. Yeats - 1865-1939

I went out to the hazel wood,   
Because a fire was in my head,   
And cut and peeled a hazel wand,   
And hooked a berry to a thread;   
And when white moths were on the wing,
And moth-like stars were flickering out,   
I dropped the berry in a stream   
And caught a little silver trout.   

When I had laid it on the floor   
I went to blow the fire a-flame,
But something rustled on the floor,   
And someone called me by my name:   
It had become a glimmering girl   
With apple blossom in her hair   
Who called me by my name and ran
And faded through the brightening air.   

Though I am old with wandering   
Through hollow lands and hilly lands,   
I will find out where she has gone,   
And kiss her lips and take her hands;
And walk among long dappled grass,   
And pluck till time and times are done,   
The silver apples of the moon,   
The golden apples of the sun.

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