Because April

She
says:
"I want to go
fishing", so we
will. Tie flies to
wait out the chill (though
we are fishing, still). April,
come she will. Steelhead   

over the hill. Secret creek  
for ol' orange gill.
Then fifty-nine miles  
of floating thrill.
In June:
Catskill

and

bluegill.

Go fishing, we will.    

I was busy snagging logs and snapping rods...

As evidenced above, an angler might go a little nutty when spring fever strikes (close encounters of the fish kind? [I shaped my words into a trout, and have an inexplicable desire to go to trout]). April is descending, but before it arrives and I plan to try to learn to downhill ski, try to learn the spey cast (again) and how to swing, tie trout flies, buy a raft's worth of camping gear, and more, along with the normal business. And that's before things get busy. I'm cursed with great opportunities.

Because April.

Who's coming with me?