No one has ever accused me of being particularly funny. I can usually elicit a warm, hearty laugh from my husband for my sharp wit, but he never suggested I take my act on the road.
That question, famously asked in the 1975 Broadway musical “A Chorus Line” often haunts me. “Am I my resumé? That is a picture of a person I don’t know.” I think that most of us, from time to time, experience an identity crisis of one sort or another, often brought on by having to play a variety of roles in life.
Most of us would recognize the fuzzy black-and-brown-banded woolly bear caterpillar or the distinctive monarch caterpillar and its striking bands of yellow, black and white. But there are many caterpillars we might encounter in the Upper Delaware River region that are more challenging to identify.
It is one of our warmer October days. Leaves are still falling. Butterflies are making their way around the plants on the deck. It is nice to be home early.
Well, it was anyhow. At the moment, it’s raining cats and dogs and what’s left of fall foliage is, well… falling. I did, however, spend the last week meandering through the mountains in search of leaf-peeping photo-ops and scored big time, although the explosions of color were at times difficult to find.
It’s mid-January in a conifer forest with a few clearings within. On the ground, at the edge of one of the clearings, sits an adult bald eagle. It’s not by choice the eagle is sitting on the ground; a few days back it started to experience awkwardness in flight.
For anglers living in central and western New York, fall is the time to fish tributaries of the Finger Lakes and the Great Lakes. This is the time of year when runs a pacific salmon, brown trout and land-locked Atlantic salmon begin their spawning migrations.
The fall leaves seem muted this year. We have not yet reached the peak of brilliant color so anticipated in our region. Perhaps this is due to the unseasonable heat and dry days of September. Instead, the leaves have already started coming down.
[“Peace and Justice Files” columnist Skip Mendler fled the United States on January 19, and has spent the last couple of months volunteering with a small refugee assistance group in Serbia.]
Such simple words that cost us nothing to say, and yet, they seem to be vanishing from our collective vocabulary. It’s not often that I use this column to rant, but every once in a while I do take advantage of the space the fine folks at The River Reporter grant me to discuss something other than puppet shows and bake sales.