A Chill Wind

Last Fall's pond

Today is one of those days that just smacks of Fall. We've got plenty of days ahead when the temperature will nose up into the 70s. Most of the leaves are still on the trees and are the dark green of summer. But today's mid-60s and blustery winds are indicators that, before long, the Maples will turn crimson, that trout will make redds and small blue winged olives will be the fly of sipping choice.

Fall is my favorite time of year. Something about wrapping one's self in sweaters and the first smell of wood smoke on the wind. The glorious colors emerging in the forests and the hashing and rehashing of memories of warmer weather and better fishing. And a bit of a cringe anticipating the harsh New England weather to come.

This weekend I will pick up a shotgun for the first time since last year. It's the quintessential fall transition. I'm off to the range to fragment small orange disks in the hope that I'll get out to shoot some bird this fall. Or at least get out to hike in the beautiful places where the grouse and partridge and mallard live.

But my passion will still be for stalking trout in cold water reflecting the crisp colors of fall. There are some small streams that I've neglected. The waters of past storms are clearing. I've heard the trout are still there. This cool wind smells of adventure. I have just the sweater for the task.