Fall has always been my favorite season.
But years ago, I liked autumn most of all because it’s football season. And what’s more, the baseball playoffs happen! Even basketball and hockey get rolling. What more could anyone possibly ask for?
Well… plenty, I guess.
Enjoying a season through the senses
Lately, I’ve learned to value some of the more sensory rewards that only happen in the fall.
For most of us, that starts with the leaves on the trees changing colors. I don’t know why, exactly, but I’m starting to rate the years on the quality of contrasts. This was a very good year.
There’s something uniquely strange, yet spectacularly comforting, about the sound of bull elk bugling from the hillsides and valleys. The other day, two bulls talking to each other from about a mile apart woke me up at 5 a.m. I was glad. I made a cup of tea, put on my jacket and boots and sat on the deck while they hashed things out.
I like watching my dog point birds during the upland hunting season. I swear, she’s smiling as she’s bouncing through the field, nose in the air, working the wind. And then, bam… she’s all business. The abruptness of that transition is something to behold. I could watch her work all day, and I’m pretty sure she’d do it, though she does like curling up in front of the fireplace after.
Speaking of birds, I like watching the giant migratory formations of geese overhead. I like seeing the sandhill cranes take off, though I’ll miss them. I often wonder how they know where to go, and when to leave.
I like watching a mess of ducks all cupped up and gliding into a pond, whether I’ve set out some blocks and decided to go hunting or not. That’s particularly neat in the low light of a misty morning.
The other day, we had thunder and lightning roll through the valley, and I wondered if that would be the last time I’d see a thunderstorm for several months. Pretty soon, those dark clouds will drop snow, hopefully buy the foot. There’s something special about the mystery of fall storms.
I think mystery is the real appeal of autumn. For example, one day the hummingbirds are skittering and jittering all over the place, and the next day, they’re simply gone. Off to Mexico. I’ll see ya next April/May.
I looked at the clock the other evening and realized it’s dark again before 7 p.m. and wondered how that happened.
I don’t know why it is, but I can only drink apple cider or apple juice between mid-September and mid-December, but when I do, I can’t get enough.
The grill is still going strong (that’s what headlamps are really for) but there’s something about the aroma of a soup or stew simmering and homemade bread in the oven.
Living in the moment on the river
Perhaps most of all, I’ve found that there’s something extra alluring about watching trout sip bugs off the river surface in the fall. I don’t know why that is, and to be sure, I like watching trout eat bugs off the surface of any water, any time of year.
Maybe it’s knowing that the fish are girding up for the winter, taking advantage of the last big hatch events of the season. Maybe it’s because I know I’m getting my last casts in on my home water before a few months off. Then again, maybe those moments just prompt me to remember and appreciate some of the experiences I’ve had up until now.
I guess that the true beauty of autumn is that it prompts you to live in the moment, yet also reflect on the past, perhaps more than any other time of year.