Yesterday, Steve Piragis and I took a walk along a portage near Ely. After a day and night of rain, our leaves that had really just begun to deepen in color were falling all around us. Autumn here in the Northwoods is fickle and comes on fast. It has no patience for those of us who love it so much and no desire to every hang around as much as we'd like it to.
So, when you have some time, or not, (it is always best to make time) It pays to get outside and relish the oranges, yellows, browns, magentas, reds against the backdrop of green conifers and blue sky. The yellow in this kevlar Wenonah Spirit II made a cool focal point.
I'm really just along for the ride, but the Piragis Pants and Chota Breathable Waterproof Socks aren't. They are the real deal and when paired with Chota Caney Fork Portage Boots or Quetico Trekkers, they make perfect sense for your feet during cool water times such right now. With 5 nights complete with frost already, the waters are fresh with anticipation of being hard in a month and a half if not sooner. The fish instinctively know this and they are hungry. The bite is on!
If the beautiful colors aren't enough to entice you into a trip to Ely and the Boundary Waters this Autumn, that should. Nothing like a fresh fish dinner over the campfire.
Oh, and just because Minnesota is full of surprises, on Sunday, it is supposed to be 76 degrees here in Ely. Sunshine will never feel so great.
p.s. The next two weekends represent the end of our Outlet Store Season for 2015. That means less than eight days left for you to save 75% on excellent clothing items in our Outlet Store. Sale ends when MEA Weekend is over.
The walk in the woods yesterday inspired this poem.
North Country Fall
Leaves are falling,
circling round in their descent
like distant friends might
one day plot a pilgrimage
towards freedom.
Bigtooth Aspens, White Swamp Oaks,
Showy Mountain Ash
Popples and Paper Birches,
Silver Maple; Black Ash,
Pin Cherry, Quaking Aspens
and underneath, Ironwood, Honeysuckle and Anise Hyssop.
Eastern Cottonwoods, Box Elders.
Sugar Maples and a
solitary
Shagbark Hickory, the ugly duckling
amongst a temeritous stand
of Bur Oak.
While the tamarack turn
their backs on their green
coniferous neighbors.
Leafy fingers,
Golden with rust, reach
for the clouds as if
to pull down the
snow around their
knobby knees,
before falling selfishly.
Alone, leafless, among all the other
conifers of the North.
Strong smells of woodsmoke
are in the air
and under the raven’s
wing. Apples burgeon
with Summer’s amorous liquor, heavy
on brown branches that
once blossomed
at the mercy of the same
visiting winds signaling
the separation of Spring.
Lying on the forest floor
I think of you and how far
and fast I’ve fallen.
In the face of your
fortunate
landing.
@Timothy James Stouffer, 10/09/2015
All Rights Reserved
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