The Sparkling Stream

The upper Itchen was in fine fettle yesterday. Laser-sharp sunlight illuminated the crystalline water. Every crease and current glinted and gleamed. Expectant trout hung in the midwater as if suspended by unseen strings. Their shadows swayed rhythmically on a tapestry of chalk and verdant weed. Fins and tails dimpled the water's surface where they fed. Hidden by a bank of teeming sedge, Bjorn cast…