Sunny Holiday Postcard Of Brandywine Beach In Hoffman’s Mill, Mass., The Summer Home Of Thomas Morehouse-Croft,

@evan_schock and the dolly. Can’t think of a better way to spend the Sunday.

I’m always surprised when a fish this size is willing to take a size 14 fly

Straight from Colorado 🇺🇸 Photo Credit: @dfdoesco

@fishin_baes having fun on the river! Photo Credit: @skyguyut

Mirage Beadhead. After posting the Hydropsyche Larva varation last week it got me thinking what is the fly I mostly use with it since I rarely fish it alone. Instead I usually have a Czech style nymph rig with 2-3 flies. There are of course many go to -patterns but this simple little fly has been proving to be useful in many situations and is a good choice if you are looking for a searching pattern for trout or grayling. It’s super fast to tie, only thing slowing you down is if you wish to coat the UV glue body with a layer of varnish but even that’s not really an issue if you do the bodies ready and complete the flies the next day or after couple hours break. Again I like to use TMC 2457 #16-18 hooks as they are heavy and strong for the size. I usually fish these in places with strong current so I have to be able to trust the hook when I’m playing a fish. Hook: TMC 2457 #16-18 or similar Weight: Gold Tungsten bead and some leadfree wire on the thorax. Underbody: Build a smooth tapered underbody with a light tying thread. Body: UTC Mirage Tinsel - Opal #M. Coated with UV cured resin like Bug Bond and with a light coat of varnish for added shine and durability. Thorax: SLF Spikey dubbing - Fox Squirrel (Natural)

Cool wings!

Beautiful Brook Trout near the A.T. ~At Firescald Falls in Dennis Cove.

Finally got me some nature time. The Hubs and I did a little fly fishing around our local waters. Guess what, I caught my first (wild) brook trout! Look at how pretty the patterning is: slate blue with hot pink and lemon polka dots with racer strips on the fins~ Me thinks these are prettier than rainbow trouts.

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It’s bathing day again, and it’s how Emily knows another couple of weeks has passed, give or take. 

Her sense of time is still a blur, but there’s the unmistakable flow crisp of icy air replacing the moist scent of rotting leaves, and the chilled metal of her doorhandle bites at her fingers as she grabs it. And she knows it must be the Month of High Cold.

And she would climb up and push the metal shutters in the dusty corridors to see if the snow has covered the metal cat outside, if it has covered the roofs and the gardens and the round terrace on her right, or if it’s a windy, dry, snowless kind of winter, but a woman in dusty overalls and a heavy little suitcase came in with the madame some weeks before that, and fiddled with the old broken lock, and before Emily could even move to get up, the door slammed and the rusty old key turned, scraping at her spine.

Today one of the girls turns the key inside the lock, sheepishly, a stack of towels under her arms, and against the darkness of the freezing hall Emily sees the faint glow of the girl’s breath, a ghostly little cloud around her mouth. Emily sways, getting up from her spot, and feels a dull hit of embarrassment against her throat, at the aching weakness of her knees, of moving around so little when she used to be running around the Tower’s gardens for hours and could climb the hightest tree if only her governesses would let her. Could run and run and get scratches on her laquered shoes from running so much, almost as fast as Corvo, and she would be chastised for returning back to her studies all sweaty and red-faced and her voice hoarse and raw from the chilly air outside, and now she could barely get herself to follow the girl down the stairs, each step echoing painfully through her soles.

She wonders, briefly, if she could be so weak because she’s falling sick. 

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