Mother Nature is pulling some mean pranks. I went for a hike near my house on Saturday. I decided to walk a ridgeline because I figured an exposed ridge would probably be pretty dry. Not only was it muddy in spots (yeah, I know, bad hiker!) but there was still snow in several sections.

My wife, Shelley, and I managed to hike a mile or so before turning back. I never seem to figure out it takes more than a few days of sunny weather to truly dry out the terrain. Lesson learned, again.

On Sunday my friend, Dave, and I hit the Snake River near Jerome for some fly fishing. We thought we were headed for the banana belt, but it didn't feel tropical. In fact, the ferrules on my fly rod were icing up until late morning.

Now I am dusting off the mountain bike. I am resigning myself to pavement or gravel roads until things really dry out, but I see my next pitfall coming. I will throw on the biking clothes and climb a hill and build up a good head of steam, then bomb down and feel my lips turn blue from wind chill.

I know it will happen. I never learn.