Eclipse Report: Clouds Eclipse Eclipse

Going...

Going...

Gone.

Oh well. We'll have another chance on October 8.

S. C. O. T. F. Spring 2014

Enter HERE.

Bad Moon Rising

Just dropped over to EarthSky. Glad I did. Big news!

There will be a total eclipse of the full moon tonight, April 14 - 15. Mars, the Red Planet, is the closest and brightest in 6 years, and will be visible near the red moon. Look for the star Spica, too.

This is known as a Blood Moon. Some people, of a particular religious or superstitious bent, believe this moon, and the three other Blood Moons occurring in 2014 and 2015--four in a row--are signs of the Apocalypse. Yes, that Apocalypse.

If you insist on getting all worked up about that, fine. Go for it. But if you have an open mind and are interested in learning more, you might find this link helpful:

A Christian Astronomer Talks About Blood Moons

I've already said on this blog that I'm a believer. And I believe that the End of the World is the Creator's department. I hope to be ready, whenever it is.

Meanwhile, I will be praying. I'll be praying that the skies are clear over north central Washington State tonight.

"Out on the Flats" by Leonard Nathan

For Matt, on his birthday.

1961 - 2004

Out on the flats, a heron still

as a hieroglyph carved

on the soft gray face of morning.

You asked, when I seemed far away,

what it meant but were gone

when I turned to you with an answer.

Nothing mysterious—hunger,

a taste for salt tides,

distance, and a gift of flight.

"Out on the Flats" by Leonard Nathan, from The Potato Eaters. © Orchises Press, 1998.

A Dream of Trout Lake

I'm not really dreaming of New Zealand. I'm dreaming of Trout Lake, my true home water, opening soon in a reality near me. This preview from a review is from early June, 2009.

"The Cats" by Ann Iverson

To find such glory in a dehydrated pea

on the tile between the stove and fridge.

To toss the needs of others aside

when you simply aren't in the mood for affection.

To find yourselves so irresistible.

And always in a small spot of sun,

you sprawl and spread out the pleasure of yourselves

never fretting, never wanting to go back

to erase your few decisions.

To find yourself so remarkable

all the day long.

"The Cats" by Ann Iverson from Come Now to the Window.

 © Laurel Poetry Collective, 2003.

Youth Sports Post: A Busy Spring Continues

Matching the Hatch

Rivers In Trouble

The poet Charles Bukowski said it:

"The problem with the world is

that the intelligent people are full of doubts

while the stupid ones are full of confidence."

Get the full list of rivers HERE.

Now, what is it you're still unsure of?

A Dream of New Zealand

In my dream I'm in New Zealand, I'm catching big trout, and I'm speaking Norwegian. Sweet.

Aotearoa Trout from André Pedersen on Vimeo.

Ever Feel Like the Last Elk In the Herd?

Just make sure that's not you when the wolves are closing in.

Great Post From Fly Fishing in Yellowstone National Park

Photo credit: Fly Fishing in Yellowstone National Park

It's good to be old.

Read this, you young whippersnapper.

Fly Fishing In Yellowstone National Park: Lowland Expedition

"Plains Spadefoot Toad" by Tom Hennen

Plains Spadefoot Toad

Toads are smarter than frogs. Like all of us who are not good-

looking they have to rely on their wits. A woman around the

beginning of the last century who was in love with frogs wrote

a wonderful book on frogs and toads. In it she says if you place

a frog and a toad on a table they will both hop. The toad will

stop just at the table's edge, but the frog with its smooth skin

and pretty eyes will leap with all its beauty out into nothing-

ness. I tried it out on my kitchen table and it is true. That may

explain why toads live twice as long as frogs. Frogs are better at

romance though. A pair of spring peepers were once observed

whispering sweet nothings for thirty-four hours. Not by me.

The toad and I have not moved.

"Plains Spadefoot Toad" by Tom Hennen, from Darkness Sticks to Everything.

© Copper Canyon Press, 2013.

Early Lake Report: The Beginning of the End?

Back to Early Lake. It was a typical April day: May when the wind sat down and the sun was out, and March when the squalls would blow through.

A little quick cleanup, moving a large chunk of styro to the takeout for later disposal.

Now it looks like a pristine wilderness lake again--which it isn't.

The fish--newbie stockers--were up again. I coaxed a few to take a muddler, the same one I had tied for Rocky Ford last week and then left at home. I guess I had tied it for here.

This is not a wilderness lake, but wild things can be found here. Hawks and eagles hung on the wind overhead. The eagles were so high I could barely see them. The hawks have paired off for nesting season, and would call to each other frequently.

Break time. The woods are waking up.

The fish were still up, though they waxed and waned with the wind and weather. They liked a dead drift when it was calm, and a slow strip through the riffles.

I fished the rest of the day with a series of dries, including a bivisible. An old fly for a new season.

After a few hours I was cold, but then the clouds cleared enough to let the evening sun through, and the wind backed off.

I decided to stay a little longer. My feet couldn't get more numb than they already were.

I just fished and caught, relaxing into a leisurely rhythm.

I kept it up until it was time to wait a little longer to see what the sunset would look like.

And then to wait a little longer to see how it would finally turn out.

I started to kick out and flicked my fly at a cluster of rises as I had been doing steadily all evening. I got another hookup. The last fish of the day.

Uh oh. I usually don't begin to catch bluegill until the water has warmed up a couple weeks from now. And that's usually when it's time to move on to the Browns and Rainbows of Trout Lake.

Is this the beginning of the end for my days at Early Lake?