I don't know about anyone else, but I'm stuck smack dab in the middle of a bitter winter rut.
I'm growing weary of this:
I'd much rather be doing this:
The deep freeze finally lifted today. I took a nice walk along the river, and it was actually comfortable outside. No snotcicles in my moustache, no frost on my toes, no eye-watering frigid breeze. I nearly threw better judgment to the wind and almost broke out the flyrod to drift a midge through the tiny opening the river cut through snow and ice. Neurotic at best. Moronic at worst.
I'm not the world's best, nor its most efficient, fly tier. I'm getting to the point where I can mass produce a dozen or so per hour, however. My problem is that there are going to be far too many "hours" between now and more favorable conditions on the Poudre. I may have to put the vise on ice for a little while and start searching for some good tailwaters.
Waiting for a favorable Groundhog Day.