I tied up some flies well before the Christmas rush. Some scuds. Some mays. Some soft hackles. And a couple of mice. Bigger hooks on the mice this time. The 2X tippet is waiting by the fly box ready to go. There are fresh batteries in my headlamp. And the days are getting longer.
I must have been a good boy, because on Christmas morning there was a new pair of waders under the tree for me. Oh boy oh boy. They were sorely needed. I can't wait to break them in, slime them up, and blood them with one or two of those big Rocky Ford Rainbows.
I don't know yet when that will be. Probably not until next year. The real winter weather has settled in: snow, ice, freezing fog, and frigid temperatures. That has made travel a dicey proposition on most days. The trip to Rocky Ford is two hours over high flats where windblown snow, impenetrable fog, and black ice can ruin your day.
So I'm biding my time. We've been having some wonderful family time, and that will continue over New Year's. There may be a football game to watch this week. (That's a joke.) And I'll be monitoring the weather and road conditions.
Through it all I'll be earnestly engaged in what Albert Camus called "the sweet pain of anticipation." That says it so well. I wonder if he was a fly fisherman.