Rain

 Few things are as soothing as the sound of rain. Without rain the world would be nothing but a ball of dust. And why is it that the dogs sleep so soundly every night when rain falls on the roof, even when they’ve been wound up all day?  And so do I.
     The rain has been falling for hours now. It is time to tie flies and dream of streams filled with trout.
     Woolybuggers. Maybe it’s because I’m not much of a nymph fisherman that I use woolybuggers so much. They don’t look like any particular life form, so there is no wrong way to fish them. A fish might mistake one for a leech or a small fish or a stonefly or a dragonfly. A few weeks ago a trout came to hand with a hellgrammite in its mouth almost the same size as the number twelve woolybugger beside it.
     My woolybuggers don’t have much flash, not like the ones I see in fly shops. Drab green body of shaggy wool is my favorite, with black marabou tail and wrapped with black hackle. Fine black wire keeps everything tidy. Wet the fly is a very dark fly. I tie other colors too, some with bead heads and some without, but green catches the most fish for me.
     If it doesn't stop raining soon the pile of woolybuggers will be a foot high.