Neither of us were absolutely hell bent on fishing until things began to warm a bit. On the way to the river we stopped here and there checking other streams, looking for turkey sign, and generally goofing off the way outdoor types do when there's time to kill.
When we'd both had enough, we pealed off our waders next to the truck. It finally felt like the temperature was near 50° and the warm sun felt good on my back. For the next hour we sat on the tailgate of the truck, drank a cold beer, and laughed about stories of misadventure in years past. Tree swallows checked out nearby bluebird boxes, to a serenade of spring peepers and a lone Canada goose was already on a nest within sight of our position. It was perfect.
It's funny how there's a necessary process to times like that. You can't just jump right into a tailgate powwow without first going through the preliminary actions... be they fishing, hunting, painting, whatever. It just doesn't work that way. But the entire day was leading up to that moment on the tailgate of the truck when we clanked beer bottles and BT said around his cigar, "This is quite a day, eh Bortzie?"
Quite a day indeed. Thanks BT. I needed that.