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Next Season  or most of the autumns in the past, after the months of hubbub that is summer, it is good to enjoy the solitude offered by the finest of all the seasons. The October wind ushers it in like a maitre d’ seats clientele at a Five Star restaurant. The table is set with the brilliant colors of New England’s hardwoods, elegant bird dogs, and the elusive gamebirds scattered about the countryside. Light a cigar, pour a wee dram of single malt, and let’s toast the season. Although the season only lasts a few months, the memories linger for a lifetime and perhaps longer if passed down through generations. The times change, the faces and dogs are different year by year; but luckily, the purpose and meaning are the same as they have been since the beginning of time. It is to become one with nature, accompanied and witnessed by a canine friend. These moments in time are the bricks that build the foundations of our memories. They will be with us, locked in the vault of our mind, until the day we depart this world. But this year it’s different, because I’ve won an all-expenses-paid trip to Iraq, courtesy of the Connecticut National Guard. I traded in my Fox 20-bore for an M16, my Barbour hunting jacket for 40 pounds of body armor, and my LL Bean Boots for Bates MK 9 assault boots along with a plethora of other heavy items to carry on my 48-year-old body. Back home in Connecticut as I write this, it is bird-hunting season. I miss it as much as I miss my wife Carol and my red setter Murphy. You’ll notice the order is correctly provided so as to prevent my Fox from going on eBay for “Buy Now” at $100.
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September/October
2007