andrew@bluelinesflyfishing.com

"It was the season of the shortest nights, and it was not long before the deep obscurity which precedes the day began to yield to the returning light.  If any earthly scene could be presented to the senses of man that might soothe his passions and temper his ferocity, it was that which grew upon the eyes of Hutter and Hurry as the hours advanced, change night to morning.  There were the usual soft tints of the sky in which neither the gloom of darkness nor the brilliance of the sun prevails, and under which objects appear more unearthly, and we might add, holy, than at any other portion of the twenty-four hours.  The beautify and soothing calm of eventide has been extolled by a thousand poets, and yet it does not bring with it the far-reaching and sublime thoughts of the half hour that precedes the rising of summer’s sun.  In the one case the panorama is gradually hid from the sight, while in the other its objects start out from the unfolding picture, first dim and misty, then marked in, in solemn background; next seen in the witchery of an increasing, a thing as different as possible form the decreasing twilight, and finally mellow, distinct, and luminous, as the rays of the great center of light diffuse themselves in the atmosphere.  The hymns of birds, too, have no novel counterpart in the retreat to the roost, or the flight to the nest; and these invariable accompany the advent of the day, until the appearance of the sun itself…"