As spring arrived and our newly planted flag rysomes stared to poke their lush green spikes through the backfill, we have a new river. This is no longer a place the keeper, or his rods hurry past. Those rods make special calls to report captures of trout from this place, it amazes me how quickly they respond. Dropping down from spawning and seeking suitable summer quarters; they must like it here. An atmosphere of expectation has returned, lost when those Victorians commanded this river into a walled channel; told it to behave, to get through as quickly as possible. Dippers love it here now, they can bob into the shallow water and collect caddis from the river bed, they squable for the best perches on the corners of those thick ash trees, now put to good use as 'undercut banks'. Encouraged by the new flow, ranunculus shoots promise summer trellises and tiny black flies feeding from the nectar of white buttercup flowers. All this before the end of the first spring olive hatch.
Meandering stimulates water to eddy, rush, twist, slow and sparkle.

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