It's not spring yet...

[Lard Almighty]

With the milder temperatures teasing the imminent arrival of spring, I headed to the same local pond where I crushed them on Monday. No sooner did I arrive there, however, that clouds moved in and the wind started to blow. And blow. And blow. With each passing moment the sun was swallowed more and more by grey clouds, and the wind became stronger. Any trace of warmth brought about by the afternoon sun was a distant memory, as the merciless howling wind seemed to suck the strength from my very bones. After an hour of this face-stinging, hand-numbing madness I couldn’t take it anymore, and retreated to the sanctuary of my car, the heat blasting on full. All during the drive home I lamented that, with spring so close I could practically taste it, Old Man Winter decided to play one final cruel joke before giving way.

Tally on the day: one decent bass, two dink crappie, and a pair of chapped lips.

[Wilson]

Originally Posted by Lard Almighty

With the milder temperatures teasing the imminent arrival of spring, I headed to the same local pond where I crushed them on Monday. No sooner did I arrive there, however, that clouds moved in and the wind started to blow. And blow. And blow. With each passing moment the sun was swallowed more and more by grey clouds, and the wind became stronger. Any trace of warmth brought about by the afternoon sun was a distant memory, as the merciless howling wind seemed to suck the strength from my very bones. After an hour of this face-stinging, hand-numbing madness I couldn’t take it anymore, and retreated to the sanctuary of my car, the heat blasting on full. All during the drive home I lamented that, with spring so close I could practically taste it, Old Man Winter decided to play one final cruel joke before giving way.

Tally on the day: one decent bass, two dink crappie, and a pair of chapped lips.

At least the lips were keepers

[Bergen Angler]

Originally Posted by Lard Almighty

With the milder temperatures teasing the imminent arrival of spring, I headed to the same local pond where I crushed them on Monday. No sooner did I arrive there, however, that clouds moved in and the wind started to blow. And blow. And blow. With each passing moment the sun was swallowed more and more by grey clouds, and the wind became stronger. Any trace of warmth brought about by the afternoon sun was a distant memory, as the merciless howling wind seemed to suck the strength from my very bones. After an hour of this face-stinging, hand-numbing madness I couldn’t take it anymore, and retreated to the sanctuary of my car, the heat blasting on full. All during the drive home I lamented that, with spring so close I could practically taste it, Old Man Winter decided to play one final cruel joke before giving way.

Tally on the day: one decent bass, two dink crappie, and a pair of chapped lips.

Fisherman Poet?

[UglyStick]

I'm gonna have Lard narrate my catches this year...

[AndyS]

March is the bridge from winter to spring. It's a long and lonely bridge, one we all must cross to see the warmth of spring. Winters' back is broken, we are crossing the bridge.

[Bergen Angler]

Originally Posted by AndyS

March is the bridge from winter to spring. It's a long and lonely bridge, one we all must cross to see the warmth of spring. Winters' back is broken, we are crossing the bridge.

another poet?

[Lard Almighty]

Originally Posted by Bergen Angler

Fisherman Poet?

I was going to include a line about Old Man Winter farting in my face, but I know you guys are all too high-brow for that kind of crassness.

[flatcreek]

Thanks Lard.

[lunkertaker]

Lard

I hate the title of the post, but not as much as it is so true.

Gonna bust wide open...need a little more patience.

Man I got the gear ready, boat is cleaned and ready, tied some flies, restrung my rods, have re-looked over the gear just in case I have missed something, BUT...It's not spring yet