You've got a few hours and a tin of new muddlers. You tie on the #12 and kick out on the north end.
Across the lake by the inlet you find some fish. The water level is rising steadily, and the fish are moving up closer to their old haunts along the willows under the trees.
There's a sudden spate of fish rising out in open water. You see what they're taking: big winged ants. It's an ant fall. You clip off the muddler and tie on an old Callibaetis pattern. You can't find an Adams; you'll need to replenish the supply.
The fish like the Callibaetis, especially when you give it a few twitches.
It's not long before the Callibaetis is too sodden to float. You look through your fly boxes and find some Henryville Caddis. You tie one on, and hope it's the right size and shape.
As quickly as it began the ant fall action slackens. There is a pod of small fish still marauding and you capture the take as one of them ambushes the Henryville Caddis.
A plane rises out of the west. You're always amused to think of the people crammed into that metallic tube glinting up there in the late sun.
Less than a month ago, it was you.
You give thanks for the view and the leg room you are enjoying now as the jet disappears over the eastern ridge.
You take one more small fish on the Henryville, but the lake is quieting down.
You tie on the #8 muddler and kick back over to the truck side and work up the shoreline in the dusk.
You find two strong rainbows looking for a large-sized meal. They come out of nowhere, slam the fly, and run line off the reel.
It's beginning to feel like old times.