Stood looking out over one of my faviorate streams, the bitter cold gnawing at my finger ends. Through the chill, fish are rising and I notice what at first glance are small pale midges. On a closer inspection they are tiny flakes of snow drifting to and fro above the surface, riding the thermals like ash from a bonfire. The fish were probably rising to something unseen but I prefer to think they were coming up for a taste of snow. Made me think of my daughter catching snow flakes on her tongue.
for dreamers and troutbums everywhere.