What is it that undeniably, indisputably signals fall for you? Is it a quality of the air in the mornings, or that first golden-yellow leaf sailing ground-
ward? Do our dogs sense it? Maybe that’s what seals the deal: their first amped-up field trip full of vim and vigor they recognize in their subconscious as beyond summertime conditioning sessions. I wonder if it’s the subtly increased pace of their run or that lilt in their step as they
jet from objective to objective.
Some critters stir, others hunker. All change their routine and we notice it. Days get shorter and we change our own routine. Kids head back to school, like-minded friends speak in hushed tones about favorite places and opening day strategies.
More mundane omens push us to another look at the calendar: the Cabela’s fall sale, the distant “crumpf” of big-game hunters sighting in rifles, the smell of old canvas filling our nostrils as tents are unfolded.
But for each of us there is a personal harbinger that our time is almost here. For me, it is that first intake of breath on a morning with temperatures below freezing. The smell and feel of icy atmosphere, bracing lungs physically and hearts psychically.
What’s your signal?