I stepped through the brush down from the bank into the stream. Though it had been a favorite spot many years earlier, I had not fished this particular stretch of water in a couple years. The long deep pool that used to swirl past boulders was gone, slowly filled in, or shifted by the annual spring scouring. Or perhaps wiped out in a single big flood. But I eyed a decent-looking new run 20 yards upstream of where I stood. I paused a moment, taking in the changes to the stream’s course while I blew on my hands to warm them. Then I waded up the streambed and took a cast.