Today was one of those spring days.
Started out cloudy and windy, but the sun broke out as I fitted the rod together.
This was the second trip for my new rod, a late era Heddon #14, 8', 1-3/4 F. On its first trip, earlier this week, I caught a fat brown on the first cast
with my new rod. I took this to be a good omen.
In the late 1800s, central and eastern New York were famous for their "mineral springs". Saratoga Springs, Richfield Springs, and other lesser known
springs. This is a sulphur spring, about 150 yards from the stream.
The sun felt good on my face, a partridge close by was drumming, and every so often, when the breeze was right, the lush aroma of wildflowers would envelop
you...
The rythem of the cast, the warmth of the sun, the smells of earth, and water, and high spring were intoxicating. Swinging a Hendrickson wet fly downstream
through a good pool, I was greeted by one of the residents.
A good morning, but all good things must come to an end. I am lucky to have these streams, these hills, a five minute journey from my home.
Post Script:
Pay no attention to the dates on the pictures, they should be changed, to protect the innocent (I never set up the new camera). And just to uphold my moniker,
here's a picture from opening day.
