It rained Sunday morning. Then it snowed. And snowed harder.
A day earlier I'd been a little jealous of the fellow ahead if me in line at an Erie sporting goods store. He was buying a one-day tourist license to fish for trout Sunday, when I was sure I wouldn't be fishing at all.
Saturday's forecast was far worse than the actual weather. It turned out to be a grand day for the trout season opener -- a gray but dry morning giving way to sun by afternoon. If the creeks ran a little high or off-color, there was no noticeable grievance on the part of those Times-News staff writer Mike Copper interviewed.
Then the weather turned overnight, and I stood at my back door Sunday morning, watching the snow fall and thinking of the poor guy shivering on some Lake Erie tributary, the snow and cold lulling the trout into unseasonable lethargy on the stream bottom.
And of course the snow ended, a warming sun emerged and the afternoon was absolutely glorious with the promise of spring. I can't imagine our one-day tourist doing anything but smiling through the duration of his license, whether he limited or not, sure again that there is indeed no such thing as a bad day for fishing.