Last night’s rain had resulted in a day of dog walks and fly tying. The water table is so high at the moment you could spit and there’d be a flood.
Yesterday, however, was a good day. Yesterday I was able to cast dry flies. Nothing targeted (as nothing was rising), but fish rose confidently time and time again in an attempt to murder my size 12 Klinkhamer.
The birds were singing (in between the showers), there were flurries of March Browns and Large Darks, and I was catching wild, spot-perfect brown trout from a wild stream on dry flies. My happiness was palpable, seemingly mirrored by the intensity of the burning red spots of these amazing trout.
As I sat contemplating both my day and the season ahead, accompanied by the sound of bubbling water and the aroma of burning Nicaraguan leaves, I am filled with excitement.
Though the world is going to hell in a handbasket, life it seems isn’t so bad.
