April folds into May and here in Portland we get to see seasons change. That's a fairly new one for me growing up and spending much of my life in California. This past week we flirted with Tee shirt weather, people washed their cars, the heat remained off, and little seedlings began to fall from the enormous elm trees that line my street.
If a young man's fancy turns to love in the Spring, then an this older man's fancy turns to the possibility of another Kentucky Derby and the opening of the trout season. OK, love too.
The fever that captures my heart and mind first is Derby fever. I usually catch it about February and by the first Saturday in May, I'm on fire. While there is a nice crop of 3-year-olds that will contest the Derby, I've had my eye on one particular colt for months. If you ask, I will tell, but for now, my anticipation is building, and my horse will be in the gate barring any unforeseen circumstances. But it is horse racing and until that bell rings about 5:05 p.m.on May 4th, I won't know for sure.
If I'm positioning myself for the Triple Crown races, I'm also doing it for some late Spring Early Summer fly fishing. Here, in Oregon, I won't be able to get into any of the high country areas until early June. Still, there are a couple of lakes at lower elevations that might be worthwhile. The skiers I know are moaning over the melting snow in the Cascades, but for me it can't come fast enough. I dread any cold spell in May that might delay the opening of a few mountain roads that all lead to either pristine rivers and streams or mountain lakes where the fish are eager for hatching Caddis and Mayflies, and their stunning reds, silvers, golds still surprise and delight this fisherman. Their red or black spots, the blue tones and salmon underbellies of brook trout still elicit wonder and contentment. Just to see, hold and then release my quarry is enough. I photograph them whenever possible too. A good picture is all the trophy I need.