Spring Has At Last Sprung...

...So Sayeth The Brave Order of Virtuous Weathermen...And if you believe that one just take a gander out yonder window... 

Ok, so depite that the official solstice is still three weeks down the road, most of us do consider March, April and May spring months. And as a bona fide- true-blue-carded-fly-pole-toter spring, the official sort or otherwise, tis indeed time I typically get off the proverbial pot and get at it but...for a variety reasons, some of which escape me at the moment, the bug as they say has yet to bite this ol' boy's butt. 

Could be the drive to Butte yesterday: snow drifting the highway, the icy wind howling, oh say, 30-miles plus, to say nothing the stark white iced-over Big Hole broken only here and there by skinny ribbons black, really black open water or...

...the past week's widespread reports of negative 30s and worse in all the right places (read rivers), like someone once noted we all have our limits...right.

Or it just might be that after 50 days or so gamboling about the desert  bedecked out for the most part in tee-shirt and shorts (OK I lie but) I just can't bear the idea a dealin' with a mostly froze-up crick, freezin' butt whilst wavin a silly ol' stick and maybe...just maybe...snaggin' a silly ol' trout or...

Worse...findin a by God Montana bone a tuggin on the line...

Perish the thought, eh?

Instead me thinks tis high time to toss nother log on the fahr, splash a dash a bourbon in the glass, kick back and when the bluebirds start to singin' up ta lemonade springs well... Be sure and call me, ya hear...over and out...    

Trash talk aside, the mountain whitefish has saved many us iced-up bug dunkers from tastin' dreaded skunk...true story.