Rocky Ford Creek Report: Perspective

It was the first day of Spring, and I wanted to be at Rocky Ford Creek at the exact time of the vernal equinox.

On my journey to Rocky Ford I pass right by Lake Lenore, a Lahontan cutthroat fishery. I noticed on my last trip that it was open: fishermen were all over it. This time I stopped and talked to a couple guys who said the fish were in the north and south ends already, something they don't normally do until April.

I made a note to get the float tube ready and give it a try on my next trip, but, as the guys said, "Be ready to squeeze in elbow to elbow."

Rocky Ford was a little more crowded than usual, too. I wasn't the only one who wanted to celebrate the first day of Spring on the water.

I found the fishing slow. I managed to hook a few small fish, but the larger trout were eluding me.

At least I wasn't distracted by constant action, so I was able to keep track of the time and be ready for the moment of the equinox. So here is what the the arrival of Spring looked like at Rocky Ford Creek. 

I fished some more, but I wasn't doing very well. The truth is, all the time I wasn't catching anything, or catching another little trout, there was a guy downstream on the opposite bank reeling in one nice fish after another.

My competitive nature kicked in for awhile, and I tried hard to outfish him. But after a time I had to admit that my heart wasn't in it anymore. It was time to accept that sometimes it's someone else's day.

There were two things weighing on my mind. The first was that when I got out of the truck there was a fluid leak under the engine. I didn't open the hood then, but I checked the fluid. It seemed to be plain water, but I couldn't think of any explanation for it. I decided to worry about it later, and now it was later. I wanted to have some daylight for troubleshooting, and some extra time in case someone had to drive down and pick me up.

The other thing on my mind was that I had lost a good friend that week. He had gone in for knee surgery on Monday, and died suddenly early Tuesday morning. His memorial service was going to be the next morning, and I had some things to do in the service that I had been going over and over in my mind.

So I left the water and headed for home. The first test was to see how the truck ran. It ran fine. So now I could stop worrying about that and concentrate on my friend's memorial service.

The view of the mountains to the west fit my mood, and I had some extra time, so I pulled off on a couple of gravel roads to get a better vantage point.

It was good to see those snowy peaks rising out of the misty distance. It was good to remember that they had been there for eons, and would be there for eons more. They helped put everything else in perspective.

It had been a good day, and tomorrow would be a good day, too.

"Spring Follows Winter Once More" by Tom Hennen

"Snow Geese, Spring, Point Barrow, Alaska" by Michael P. Frase

Lying here in the tall grass

Where it’s so soft

Is this what it is to go home?

Into the earth

Of worms and black smells

With a larch tree gathering sunlight

In the spring afternoon

And the gates of Paradise open just enough

To let out

A flock of geese.

"Spring Follows Winter Once More" by Tom Hennen from Darkness Sticks to Everything. © Copper Canyon Press, 2013. 

Happy "First Day of Spring"

We should actually say the First Day of Astronomical Spring.

But Spring by any other name would still be Spring, and the time to get out and fish the Blue Quill hatch.

Fly Fishing the Blue Quill Hatch in the Great Smoky Mountains from Ian Rutter on Vimeo.

Clearing Up This Whole Spring Thing

Some people are going to tell you that today, March 1, is the First Day of Spring. Don't believe it.

Most people know without a doubt that the First Day of Spring won't arrive until March 20. That's because it's tradition. And their calendars say so. But they're wrong, too. That won't be the First Day of Spring either.

March 20 will be, instead, the first day of what is known as Astronomical Spring. That's because March 20 is the day of the Vernal Equinox, and the Astronomical seasons are determined by the tilt of the earth's axis. So March 20 will be the first day of Astronomical Spring. But Astronomical Spring is not the first Spring of the year.

Those people trying to tell you that today is the First Day of Spring think they've really pulled a fast one on you. That's because they've discovered what is called Meteorological Spring. Meteorological Spring is based on temperature rather than on what the earth's axis is doing. The three coldest months--December, January, and February--are Meteorological Winter. So, guess what, March, April, and May make up Meteorological Spring. So March 1 is the first day of Meteorological Spring!

But if they had read further in Wikipedia, like I did, they would realize that Meteorological Spring is still not the first Spring of the year.

Here's where it gets good. There's a third way of classifying the seasons. These are the Solar Seasons. Solar Seasons are determined not by the tilt of the earth's axis, or the temperature, but by the amount of sunlight the earth receives. Solar Winter consists of the three months that receive the least sunlight: November, December, and January. Therefore Solar Spring--the official First Spring of the Year--begins on  February 1.

I think you've heard me say or seen me write that I have always considered February to be the first month of Spring. All this time I thought I was just being ironic, and it turns out I was right.

So when is the actual First Day of Spring? It doesn't matter. We missed it.

"Here in the Time Between" by Jack Ridl

Here in the time between snow

and the bud of the rhododendron,

we watch the robins, look into

the gray, and narrow our view

to the patches of wild grasses

coming green. The pile of ashes

in the fireplace, haphazard sticks

on the paths and gardens, leaves

tangled in the ivy and periwinkle

lie in wait against our sill. This

drawing near of renewal, of stems

and blossoms, the hesitant return

of the anarchy of mud and seed

says not yet to the blood's crawl.

When the deer along the stream

look back at us, we know again

we have left them. We pull

a blanket over us when we sleep.

As if living in a prayer, we say

amen to the late arrival of red,

the stun of green, the muted yellow

at the end of every twig. We will

lift up our eyes unto the trees hoping

to discover a gnarled nest within

the branches' negative space. And

we will watch for a fox sparrow

rustling in the dead leaves underneath.

"Here in the Time Between" by Jack Ridl, from Practicing to Walk Like a Heron.

© Wayne State University Press, 2013.

Postscript: As I took these photos I saw a fox sparrow rustling in the dead leaves under these branches. Happy Spring.