Best of All, It's Fall
It's splendid sights, sounds and smells.

Warm winds from the south, coat-tightening blasts from the north. Pleasant breeze, cooling wind, chilling gale. The edgy-ness of distant storms brewing. The first flurries of snow, the first white ground cover, the thin ice coating my kayak. 

This time of year on a river far away from home I enjoy the splendor of this season all alone. I glide down the river where the only sound made is my paddle breaking the water’s surface. The only evidence of my being is the ripple from my wake and it too will soon disappear.

Squirrels gathering their cache, scurrying from here to there and under. A Vee of geese honking their goodbyes to the land. The majestic eagle soaring above, stoic blue heroin at river’s edge, busy beavers give warning, cardinals, jays and assorted little brown birds, lonely calls wondering where did everyone go. The deer ahead are sipping in the shallow, then dart and snort alerting others.

In the tail grass well hidden in their mossy oak camouflage, the paired hunters patiently seek their bountiful harvest. The fly fishermen with their paid guides make another flowing cast with great anticipation.

Most of all, autumn means colored leaves: a spectrum of shades between the green of summer and the dull browns of winter. Crimson, fiery red, maroon, ruddy orange, pure orange, yellow orange, soft yellows and bright yellows. Red maples, yellow birch, scarlet sycamores, aspen golds, and golden tamaracks. Mottled leaves of several colors in transition. Each deciduous tree, each bush, strutting its own autumn wardrobe. In their midst, the smug conifers stand for-ever green. 

Ahhh, those bright autumn spells that bring out the most vivid of hues. Days so delightful I can almost taste the color. And those cold, crisp nights when the air has its own special vintage, pulls me back for one more visit. ​

I just love a good season, watching it turn.