Wait no longer - that magical time of year is here again

Three telephone calls came in quick succession the other day, and I could hear each of the callers' voices oozing with energy.

"Better get up here in about 4-5 weeks," Henry reported from Eagle River, Wis.

"It's just starting to materialize up here," noted Donald from the hinterlands of Michigan's UP.

And it seems in Ely, Minn., the birch leaves are crackling like castanets, which for Fred the retired fireman means the time has arrived to load the fireplace with some sticks of the aromatic stuff.

I know the annual changing of the guard (or leaf colors, if you will) means the usual slow road to heavy snowfalls and bitter cold. Maybe that has something to do with why we tend to imitate lemmings by filling our gas tanks and pointing the vehicle northward - while we still have a chance.

My friend Roger moved back to the northwest suburbs after a very lengthy stay in south Florida, where largemouth bass fishing is a 12-month event. He is thrilled to be able to experience the autumn season once again, especially if he can traverse the roads in the North Country.

And I cannot think of the color changes without dreaming about the sudden explosion of 2-pound crappies on the end of my line.

It's like a fairy tale for me. I told another friend that the arrival of the fall period is the result of a direct order from God to Mother Nature to do her thing and make everyone happy with seasonal treats.

Add the extraordinary fishing on many Wisconsin, Minnesota and Michigan lakes and rivers, one could possibly be on their way to curing depression and perhaps other physical ailments.

I know I run hot and cold in regard to seasons coming and going. I realize that despite my affinity for ice fishing and snowmobiling there is a sudden awareness that I've had enough of the cold stuff and am ready to greet spring with open arms. But it's autumn that truly drives me wild with anticipation.

My wife and I would stop at a "supper club" in some small Wisconsin town and ask for a table near the fireplace. Our steaks or healthy portions of succulent duck would arrive at our table with the usual fanfare. Two glasses of wine or maybe a tall crystal filled with a taste of the local brew would accompany the meal.

We always ask ourselves why the beds in some lodge or bed and breakfast seem to encapsulate us with unbelievable comfort. And with a window partially open to allow the cool night air to stir the pot, both my wife and I drift off into dreamland.

I don't think one could match the aroma of the woods down here, the perfume of the north. Every tree gives off its own proprietary signature.

Maybe it will be alright to have my wife throw a lure or two, just as long as she is warm and comfortable. Like I said in the past, just being there is all about the tug of the line with nearby tree branches doing their fall dances of the cool breezes.

My father used to tell me that our time on this planet is very short, compared to the tall spruce and pines that grow tall and strong in the forests. He was a marvelous teacher of everything wild and wonderful. The last time I took him into the woods, he just stood there as he would always do, soaking up everything he could.

"This is the magic stuff," he would say one mid-October day in northern Minnesota. "Just being here at this moment makes everything else pale. The magic stuff is endless."

If he was alive today I would ask him to perform one more trick.

<div class="infoBox"> <h1>More Coverage</h1> <div class="infoBoxContent"> <div class="infoArea"> <h2>Stories</h2> <ul class="links"> <li><a href="/story/?id=323704">A couple of days to celebrate the outdoors<span class="date"> [9/24/09]</span></a></li> </ul> </div> </div> </div>