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One can't describe the feeling of catching a wild West Virginia Trout with a rod you built and a fly you tied.
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Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Autumn in the air
9:28 AM | Posted by
David |
I recently read a post on a website saying "the smell of Autumn was in the air". I've heard that thousands of times over the years but, for some reason, it caused me to wonder what the smell of Autumn really is. I'm sure there is, in fact, some sort of a natural or chemical transformation going on that could put a scent in the ozone or mask the smells we have grown accustomed to over the summer.It's the beginning of September already. The weather in this area of the mountain state has turned cool. Daytime temps in the mid 70's and down to 50 at night. The sky is a clean and clear blue that seems to have no beginning or an end. Dusk comes earlier than it did a couple of weeks ago, and dawn seems to hang on for the longest time before daylight comes to the river. Having coffee on the deck in the morning requires a long sleeve shirt. The dew seems heavier and lasts till well up in to the morning.
Last evening, I spent some time in my swing and as I sat there, I began to once again visit the notion of "fall in the air". The blooms on my Rose of Sharon are all gone and the lower leaves now are turning a light yellow. No longer is the humidity so thick it robs the pleasure of an evening out in the yard or sitting in the swing. I noticed yesterday as I was driving home close to my house, a field full of geese and the view up the river is now more open that it was two weeks ago. The fawns I have been watching all summer are losing their spots and the two bucks are beginning to get frisky and lose a little more of their velvet each day.
When the storm hit my property a couple of weeks ago, hundreds of black walnuts were knocked to the ground. During the clean up, I picked them up and placed them in a pile along the fence. The squirrels are making good time in stealing these. Leaving only a pile of brown shells . Even they know what time of the year is getting close. Harvest is starting in the mountain state. Apple festivals and fields of stacked corn, along with wheat and oats are a common thing now. The sight of school buses tells you summer is on its way out. I watched a groundhog this morning I have named "Prince Charles"...or Chuck for short...growing fatter each time I see him. He's braver now and will eat the scraps I put out by the fence while I watch. He still doesn't say thank you...just waddles away at a much slower pace.
I built a fire in my fire pit, and as I sat there watching the flames dance and the smoke swirl, memories of other falls and the Autumn season slowly began to replace the notions of getting the yard mowed and weeds pulled. I began to plan where I'll set my Mums this year and place the shocks of corn. Suddenly, the list of things I need done before winter doesn't seem as doable as it did when I felt I had a lot of time to do it. The trees around my house will be turning a beautiful shade of yellow, and late in the evening with the lights on my house looks like a Kincaid painting.
Friday and Saturday evenings, I'll hear the cannon fire that signals the start of a local football game, and instantly my Associated Index will bring smells of the hotdog concession at a Shady Spring High football game. The section of the Upper Shavers I fish will soon be every color one can imagine and the river, at times, like an artist palette with all the mixed leaves and colors. One does not need a trip to New England to have their breath taken away. It's right here. My wardrobe will change also. No longer the shorts and t-shirts but soon to be back to my flannel shirts and old faded jeans I'm so comfortable in. Even my diet will change. You will find a pot of chili or vegetable soup on the stove and fresh homemade bread sending its scent throughout the house. There will be many evenings in the swing or on the deck, drifting back to another time in the mountains of southern West Virginia. I'll close my eyes and see the fall vista of Grandview, and continue my journey of searching for the one perfect tree that symbolizes this wonderful season...camera ready, so I can capture it.
Frost will bring a brown canvas to show off the reds of poison ivy and oak. Young Sumac will stand out way before you get to them. Fire on the Mountains will turn red and orange and yards go from bright green to a carpet of leaves. Saturday mornings will be just like those growing up and a layer of smoke from burning leaves hanging in the hair over Beaver. My Balsam and Snap Dragons will be replaced with blooms of crimson, purple and yellow Mums. Firewood will be carried to the deck and days working outside will get shorter.
It is my favorite time of the year. Time to gather books for winter reading, bundle up for walks, and time on the deck with a cup of hot coffee in my favorite cup. I have always had a matter with fall I could not identify. I'm sure I'm not alone in this. At times, it's an endless energy, trying to soak it all up before winter makes it's appearance. Sometimes, it's an unknown sadness I can't quite put my finger on. Perhaps it's signaling an end...or preparation for a new beginning. The warmth of the fire tonight felt good and the orange flames had a rival. The full moon was a bright orange...and the perfect back drop for a witch on her broom out and about for the evening.
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