On Celtic Heritage Day (some people call it St. Patrick's Day), while Tucson broiled and dust devils danced across the shaved-bare cotton fields of Pinal County, we and the Arizona Farrells gathered in the relative cool of the Catalina Mountains.
[Ellie in the Catalinas, wearing a Celtic knot in Irish blue.]
Like so many on this day, I was busy tying one on—the "one" in this case being a fox-squirrel nymph from my own vise. (Thanks, Jessa!)
The first fish brought to hand was a tiny, wild brown trout: perfection itself, and precisely the sort of trophy fish I like to catch.
I wasn't the only one fishing; daughter Ellie and nephew Matthew had a go, and sister-in-law Heather hauled in a good supper's worth of rainbows.
[Heather's fly box.]