Wool Pants Day

It is raining and 50F, but with little wind. Solitude comes easier on such day. The noise of town is hidden by the raindrops striking the surface. And the fun-boaters do something indoors. As I full well knew, it is me and a handful of fishermen well scattered up and down the big river. this morning, I dug out my Swedish army pants. They are thick, indestructible wool trousers that I've used for almost 15 years. They will get wet and yet far surpass any modern miracle fabric in comfort, and they have already outlived numerous Leak-Tex and other plastic marvels. I remember paying $4 for them. If I could find another pair, I would pay 10 times that without a thought.

I put in under the highway bridge and cut across through the old stone foundations of the railroad bridge, which leads me to the narrow back route behind Carting, Peacock, Long and Pope's Islands. It rains a rain that can continue for hours, not a downfall nor a sprinkle. The even and thick overcast reads as good as any official weather forecast - steady rain, no more, no less, all day.

The birds are hunkered down. I spot a pair of Mallards, a cormorant, 2 Great Egrets, 2 Red Wing Blackbirds, a Kingfisher and a Great Blue Heron.

At the upstream end of Great Flat, I cut across the river and follow the east edge of that island, then the east shore of the big river until I am back where I started.