This is one of my favorite months to fly fish the Delaware River and its branches. The mountains are lit up with color, and it is very pleasant time to spend a day in the outdoors. The autumn is also a time when many outdoorsmen are torn among multiple activities, so our rivers have little pressure.
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I’m feeling conflicted. On one hand, I love this time of year and the multitude of harvest festivals, hay rides and haunted houses celebrating the bounty of life-in-the-country good times. On the other hand, I’m dreading winter, knowing there will be days of feeling isolated and cut off from the outside world.
Fall foliage season in the state of Pennsylvania is a spectacular thing to experience. With more than 17 million acres of forested land throughout the state, there are abundant opportunities to enjoy the trees, brush, berries and vines that contribute to this deeply satisfying sensory treasure.
The term “déjà vu” is French and literally means “already seen.” Those who have experienced the feeling (up to 70% of the population) describe it as “an overwhelming sense of familiarity” and (according to www.howstuffworks.com), the phenomenon is “rather complex.” Swiss scholar Arthur Funkhouser sugges
My headlights shone on something glittering in the blackness of morning as I pulled into my parking space under the tree. These days the station is dark for the early trains with the exception of some overhead lamps on the platform.
If you have been in or near the woods during this past summer, you may have heard a high-pitched single-note whistle. It is piercing and carries a fairly long distance, even through the forest. Occasionally, you may have spotted a stubby-winged hawk, appearing somewhat like a miniature red-tailed hawk, sounding this call.
It seems like just the other day that we were grumbling about a late spring, cold water temperatures, high flows and lack of rising trout, and here we are, in September. One has to wonder where May, June, July and August went.
I work on the night shift now and sleep during the day, so there was something especially peculiar about being woken up at two in the afternoon on August 21 by my eclipse-enthralled family, specifically to go outside to watch the sky grow dark.
(“Peace and Justice Files” columnist Skip Mendler fled the U.S. on January 19, and is now working with a refugee assistance group near Belgrade, Serbia.)
How many times recently have you heard someone say, or seen a post on social media, something like this?
I’m absolutely positive that Arthur Fletcher did not have me in mind when he coined that phrase while serving as head of the United Negro College Fund in 1973, but that is approximately the same time that my mind became mush.