The photograph above was taken in my back garden on the morning of the 08th of April 2008. (from this post) We had snow in Wexford that morning, it was the first time Dan and Ruth had seen snow. It stayed on the ground for forty minutes. Today, on a similar date five years later, the same apple tree shows significantly lower levels of growth than seen in the photograph above. Does… Read More

A little bit of fishing in your day – Jim

‘It is natural for people to want to simplify their understanding of fly fishing the striper surf and the behaviour of striped bass. Everyone wants an uncomplicated formula to apply that will lead to the rich rewards that have made all surfcasting famous. Were it that simple, of course, we would all grasp what conditions were magic and, as a result, no stripers would remain. In fact, it is complicated because the… Read More

A little bit of fishing in your day – Jim

Definition of FED UP : tired, sated, or disgusted beyond endurance When a hawk has eaten its fill (in falconry speak, when it’s “crop is full”) it won’t want to hunt. Of course, another way of saying it’s eaten its fill is to say it’s “fed-up.” The phrase has moved from a bird who doesn’t want to hunt anymore to a person who is bored, annoyed, or disappointed, especially with something that… Read More

Walking today, along a drab cold Cork coast, I couldn’t help but remember what I was doing this time last year. Back then it was a sunny bright dry and warm week, in fact on one afternoon around the 27th I think I remember reading a local air temperature of 16 degrees. Water temps still remained relatively cool though and a sharp easterly put a bite on it at times. This was from my… Read More

March 17–Wexford VIEW SLIDE SHOW DOWNLOAD ALL A little bit of fishing in your day – Jim

Seatrout and setters VIEW SLIDE SHOW DOWNLOAD ALL Polished and muscular and torsional. On their backs were vermiculate patterns that were maps of the world in  its becoming. Maps and mazes. Of a thing which could not be put back. Not be made right again. In the deep glens where they lived all things were older than man and they hummed of mystery. Cormac McCarty – The road