That obscura you see in the background is Henry's leg. I'm trying to get him out more. He weighs 95 pounds and I don't know how that happened. This rain and snow might kill the mushroom harvest. Or it might make them pop up like crazy. We will see.
It's the end of the semester and I've come to the conclusion that I could just as well play old Sam Cooke songs to my students rather than going on and on about MLA rules and what to do in the case of three or more authors. The river is murky, and will remain murky. I deal in murk. And it helps a bit as the trout can't see your leader, or you and your dogs patrolling the riverbank. The hot fly is the brassie, in size 16. Don't make things more complicated than they already are. Do the right thing. There's no reason to fish with bead eggs or Squirmy Wormies. Got back to your roots. Tie on an actual fly, and get to work. Have a beer on the way back to town (but only drink while driving on the dirt roads). Find an Oldies station to guide you homeward. Am I advocating for breaking the law? Hell no. I'm advocating for simplicity.