The Un-Dead of Winter: A Photo Essay

[The Fisherman]

A few years ago, I wrote a short piece called "The Un-Dead of Winter." It was basically about how most people think of everything being dead in the winter and then coming to life in the spring -- when the reality is that fall is when things die, and winter is when life begins. The first flowering bulbs appear in winter, and right now things that look dead are merely lying dormant, just waiting for the sun to get a little higher in the sky, the days a little longer, the temperatures a little more clement before they explode in a cacaphony of green. Many aren't even waiting. They're already getting started on spring.

We had a nice little snowfall in Connecticut last night, and the trees and bushes around my house were dressed in their finest picture postcard winter white. After I cleared the walk and the driveway and the deck, I lit a cigar and took my camera for a little stroll to survey the grounds. Of course, the evergreens were just that: rhododendron, azalea, mountain laurel, firs and spruce looking right verdant. It was the less than usual suspects I was interested in. Here's some of what I found.

http://www.flyaddict.com/gallery/data/500/medium/black_birch.JPG
Black Birch -- these hardy souls had buds on them last month. Their pollen wreaks havoc on my sinuses, but they look fairly ready to burst.

http://www.flyaddict.com/gallery/data/500/medium/White_birch.JPG
White Birch -- Robert Frost waxed poetic about birches. I won't attempt that here, and you can thank me later. Another pollen-producing fiend that is gearing up for summer in a winter wonderland.

http://www.flyaddict.com/gallery/data/500/medium/Swamp_Maple.JPG
Swamp Maple -- This bud reminded me of an alien life form or perhaps one of the Easter Island statues.

http://www.flyaddict.com/gallery/data/500/medium/Forsythia.JPG
Forsythia -- These branches have been green since December. You can actually cut the branches off, take them inside, put them in some water, and make flowers. How cool is that? The old rose gardening saw is, "When forsythia blooms, time to prune." When my forsythia blooms, herring will be here soon...along with a few cows in tow.

http://www.flyaddict.com/gallery/data/500/medium/JFK.JPG
Rose (John F. Kennedy) -- See that tiny little knob on the side of the cane? Hard to imagine that it's got dozens and dozens of roses in it. When my roses bloom it's time for Light Cahills to show up on the Farmington.

The rivers and streams and brooks and oceans are likewise alive in the un-dead of winter. Closer to home is a drainage area where spring peepers spend the winter frozen solid. In just over a couple months, they'll start to sound.

And the bass will be on the move.

[Apache Trout]

Great stuff Steve.
We saw lots of these guys last week-
http://i799.photobucket.com/albums/yy271/Apachetrout/P1011028.jpg?t=1294527976

[Apache Trout]

As a side note, I have a wicker basket that Robert Frost used to carry kindling wood in for his fires at cabin he shared with one of my customers families. My customer was one of his best friends and gave me the basket when he was moving. He was going to throw it out and asked me if I'd like to have it.

[Jon]

Very, very nice Steven. In your enthusiasm you always declare the Fall season in August, which is melancholy for me, but I do like that you prompt spring in winter. A different angle on the dreariness.

Katie doesn't like Forsythia - it's too common apparently (whatever that means). So the tree frogs tell me when to head to the sea. The first night I hear them I feel like taking all my clothes off and dancing round the fire pit, probably after a Whisky.

Jon

[Jon]

Hopefully he'll be inspired to write more like this one. Anyway, I thought it was a doozy. Trusting he doesn't mind my dredging it up.....

The Un-Dead of Winter
By Steve Culton
© 2009. All rights reserved.

I was heading out of the office one cold January afternoon when the receptionist, noticing how I was dressed, asked me if I was going fishing. I told her yes, and she responded with, “In the dead of winter?!?”

I smiled in affirmation, but on the way to the stream, her words got me thinking about the bum rap winter takes when it comes to natural rhythms — and angling — especially if you plan on forsaking the comfort of the ice fishing hut in favor of wading. The reality is, fall is when things die. Winter is when life begins. And it truly is a wonderland, alive and well and full of vitality.

Step into your backyard or some nearby woods. The trees and bushes are already covered with buds, nature’s amazing automated leaf and flower systems, full of life (in the dead of winter!) and just waiting for the warmth of spring to pop. As I write this, the mercury is well below freezing, yet my forsythia is as green as a springtime lawn, stems so bud-laden I can only imagine the yellow riot that awaits me. Mountain laurel and rhododendrons proudly carry the evergreen banner, and from my window I can see a cardinal and his mate searching for seeds in the compacted snow.

Even on the small stream I was fishing that day, there was life in the air and beneath the water. Though only 30 degrees outside, size 14 charcoal grey midges flitted about. Wild trout were holding low on the river bottom, ready to gobble any food that came tumbling along. It started to snow, and as my cigar smoke drifted slowly into the windless air, creating a tapestry with the chunky flakes, I felt as alive and happy as I would sipping lemonade on a warm July afternoon.

A few weeks later, I was fishing a salt estuary in Rhode Island. The temperature had plummeted into the low twenties, and a bitter west wind blew in my face at 15 mph. Yet, there were snails and grass shrimp and, as this was the new moon, perhaps even clam worms doing what they always do: living. (The stripers, sadly, were living somewhere out of casting range.)

I used to view winter as a time to store the rods and gear and prepare for the ritual of spring. No longer. I’m out on our streams and rivers and the salt, almost always gloriously alone, left to my thoughts, the wonders both seen and unseen, and the bounty of life that reminds me spring is on the way.

[leadwingcoachman]

Thank you both for outfitting me with the verbal ammunition I need to defend my winter fishing insanity...

[Adrian81]

I know that for me at least in my haste to get on the water, I tend to forget or ignore what else is going around me. Thanks for sharing your observations of winter and awakening my senses beyond the anticipation of a tug at the end of the line. Cheers.

[Z Fisher]

Jon, thx for posting that lost essay. Very well done, Steve.

[Andrew]

The first night I hear them I feel like taking all my clothes off and dancing round the fire pit, probably after a Whisky.

Jon


May this winter be a very, very long one...

[Adam Taylor]

May this winter be a very, very long one...

well played governor....

[BRK TRT]

Great stuff my friend.

Thanks,

Brk Trt