Cold

The worst cold hits the Middle Atlantic by February, but it is mid March with its wind and sleet which hurts my bones.

We do have enough nice days to lure you off guard for an afternoon when the temperature hits 55 or more and then drops 30 or more degrees in a few hours.

A pleasant preamble precedes a prodigious precision of priests podding to avoid the pilgrims plunging purposefully prone to the present position along the pocked and pebbled pathway.

For some reason these days seem harsh but when comparing 5 degrees and the = wind chill factor. I will take the still night every time (well... it is always good to have a few windy stories to pull from.

I hit the trail at about 2:30 and made my way to first pool which was glass and below the freshet one would expect to find this early in the year. The only occupants of this open space (relatively) were deep in their darken caverns either to cold or shy to appear for the afternoon tasting.

I worked my way up stream with a determined and purposeful gate. Trying hard to work off the yoke of the past year. I moved well and made the usual casts in the usual spots, without a glimmer of attention.

As i moved upstream I found several new posted signs (life in the 00's). I lit a C and continued my spawn upstream depositing my hair's ear into to each pool and spill way. I approached on of the 3 larger boulders (to small to consider erratics). I came in from the tail and over the top and somehow fooled one of the larger hold overs into his first spring hit. I played him for a while but was not able to land or even get him up to a level where i could view my first jewel of the season.

Winter rocks, but spring holds the promise of....