Darkest

,

It's been thirty days since I saw one of these.....

Where the hell did the sunlight go? More importantly, when is it coming back?

Gone are the opportunities for a quick trip to the water after work. Hell, there's not much water in the streams that are close at hand, so I suppose nothing is lost. It's still depressing as hell. Especially with the change of the clocks. More darkness during the seasons prime non-work hours.

I was out to the river twice in October which is roughly half the pace I was managing in mid-September -- on a weekly basis. Skunked both times. I suppose I deserve it for trying to stretch a good thing too far.

It's the time of Steel and I need to be plotting though November is already gone and committed. The first weekend in December looks promising. Perhaps a day or two in Pulaski.  I'll call for reservations in the morning.

I suppose I should just succumb to the reality. This time of year is increasingly filled with the administrative tasks of our sport. At some point I'll have to sort through fly boxes to see what's what. I am a compulsive buyer of Parachute Adams, a pattern I hate to tie, so I'll not worry about those. But PT nymphs are in short supply, the spot where Hare's Ears are stored is sparse and the Wooley Buggers and Worms of New Mexican descent remain only in less desirable colors. But if I try to tie any more Sulphur Sparkle Duns, shoot me. I have more than I'll use in four seasons. There's something about that pattern that I like. Maybe that it catches fish. I also have a fetish for fine deer hair.

My fly lines need attention as well. I know at least one has a nick in it from a boot stud and there are probably others that are in need of replacement. I may even clean them. I'm sure I've bought some doodad for fly line maintaining though I'd be hard pressed to find it at this point. I suppose there's a place where lost angling trinkets collect. It's probably adjacent to the home of lost socks.

I could also do something about that black duffle I keep in the car. It's a crazy mix of spare reels, winter gear, lost flies, cigar wrappers and twenty other random things. Of course, it always seems to hold just the right piece of gear at the right moment. Probably best not to over think it and let it alone for now. Mojo counts and I think there's a fair amount encrusted in that battered bag's weave.

I still have to plot out some fishing over the coming weeks in between all the personal commitments. I did start November with a quick trip. I tried to catch an Olive hatch on Sunday. A front had moved through Saturday and Sunday afternoon the clouds were scattered causing the hatch to be sporadic and put the trout in a bitch of a mood. I was getting refusals on #20 and #22 Olives. I suppose I should have tied up a few #24s but then I don't have an electron microscope to see the damn things.

Back to the tying bench for now. I've brought the nymph box inside for a proper inventory. And I did find a box of #24 hooks. Of course, I do have some reading to get caught up on. So maybe the vise can wait for a bit. I'll probably regret the procrastination in the spring.

At least there are dead trees to be perused.