Fly Fishing in the Dead of Winter

I look out at the pond: a few square feet of punky skim ice desperately clings to the snow-free banks in a shaded cove. Meanwhile, in the main pond, the late-afternoon sun is reflected by waves gently rolling across the water’s surface. It’s mid-February; the pond should locked under a thick layer of milky-white ice.Continue reading “Fly Fishing in the Dead of Winter”