It is the beginning of March, and the ice is off the ponds. My license is burning a hole in my pocket and other things. It might be 41 degrees out and the wind is blowing about 25 miles per hour. Still it is time to a line in the water. It will do great things for the mind, or as my better half says my disposition. So, I head out to a pond. I come prepared with two rods and two hook boxes of flies. I'm wearing a heavy coat so the vest will not fit over it. It's much too cold to be messing with the canoe.