There is so much to learn and teach if we take the time. We show them seams where trout feed or carry them across swift currents. Flip rocks and match bugs from a fly box. Wet their hands before holding the trout you let them reel in. Laugh as they splash and swing the net, chasing a big brown darting on your line in the current.
The river has changed in the winter, but somehow it's familiar. Amplified somehow in every experience. We walk out to the river, but it's quieter. The sound of snow crunching beneath our boots reminds us of that silence. We read water, but the seams and pockets are more nuanced and subtle.
My journey to home waters has left me staring cold, difficult winter fly fishing in the face and it makes perfect sense. It seems the things in my life that have brought the greatest joy, reveal themselves on the backside of the greatest struggles. Our move to Utah was not easy. Now that we have finally unpacked, cleaned, re-modeled and settled into our new home, I have the opportunity to fish trout streams more often and attempt to answer the question: what makes winter fly fishing special?