It’s been hot and dry up here for a couple of weeks and my most loyal trout spots on the Ammonoosuc are silent. I mean deafeningly silent. Under water, on top of the water, in between the water…I can’t scare up anybody. And for those that do grace the top of the water briefly, well, they are picky and lethargic. Is this the proverbial “doldrums”? The psychosocial stress of it all has spurred dreams of Ethan Pond during the colder nights of early summer. How many weeks until September?