It is officially fall and the changing of the seasons is in full swing here in the upper Midwest. The nights are carrying a chill that lasts far into the morning, the days are shorter, and many forest animals are exhibiting a renewed focus on winter preparations. The trees are also embracing the change by swapping their green leaves for ones that are blaze orange and royal red or even abandon them altogether.
Each year I find myself more and more impacted by this inevitable transition. It sounds strange, but a small part of me fades as the vibrance of summer dims and Falls grip begins to tighten on the world around me. I am not certain what triggers this. Have I become increasingly resistance to change the older I become, or do I truly dread Fall and what comes after? Whatever the reason, I find myself challenged and perplex with the melancholy that Fall ushers in somewhere deep inside of me.
I decided that best way to wrestle with these questions was with Fall itself, so I packed up my hammock, grabbed a fly rod and explored some old fisherman trails along a small creek. While I did not find answers to the questions I had, perhaps what I discovered was much more important.
Hope you enjoy the images.
A.A.
River Jewel
Moving Water Ridge Trail
Setting Up
Hammock: WB Ridge Runner
Evening Bow
Cedar Grove Basecamp
Morning View from the Hammock: 38 Degrees
Breakfast - Shug Style
Morning Glow
Fox Squirrel
Overlook
Leftover Kings
Bookmarks