Larry Eckart
Well-known member
Fall is the best time of the year. Let me be more specific. That part of fall is best when the colors are bright, the air is sharp, and an old sweatshirt comes out of the closet. That part of fall is the best time of the year.
It is, however, so short.
It is my first fall in North Carolina after nine seasons in Hilton Head, SC. Hilton Head has three seasons: not so hot, hot and damn hot. That is only a slight exaggeration. The dominant trees there are red pine, live oak, water oak and a shrub/tree called sawtooth palmetto. Those trees are green year round. Well, not exactly: live oak and water oak drop their leaves not in fall, but as winter turns to spring. That is weird for a boy from the Midwest. The most brilliant fall colors on Hilton Head are the yellow vines climbing here and there over the island.
While Apex, North Carolina does not have the full winter of the northeast or Midwest, it is a four-season climate that I welcome. I have thoroughly enjoyed watching and tromping around in the woods this fall.
Here is a photo of a maple near my house in full fall color:
View attachment IMG_2434.jpeg
Splendid isn't it? I know it doesn't match the explosion of color offered by the New England mountains at color peak, but a beautiful tree is still a beautiful tree.
This past Saturday was Opening Day of duck season in North Carolina. Friend Ron and I planned a guided hunt on the Outer Banks. It would be my first opening day hunt in three decades since Saturdays were often full in my career as a Lutheran Pastor.
Not to happen. An unusual Low system sat off the coast for Opening Day. At the last minute we called the guide, debated about the potential conditions and upon his advice as an experienced waterman, called off the hunt. 50-60 mph winds are no place even for a 22' duck boat.
In addition to the dangerous waves and flooding, the pic below shows what happens on that ribbon of sand and earth called the Outer Banks when 50 mph winds lash the coast: a beautiful place to hunt and fish turns into a literal desert storm, a blizzard of sand that covers the roads and makes driving impossible.
View attachment EJg0_TzW4AYOOWt.jpg
This scene reminds a person of the lake effect snow areas of western Michigan, northwestern Indiana and the region around Buffalo, New York, except for one thing: instead of snow, that which makes driving dangerous is wind blown sand. The wind and sand were so bad that the North Carolina Department of Transportation shut down Route 12, the main road up and down the OBX.
That storm affected my home area by providing a weekend of 20-35 mph winds. Guess what a weekend of wind does to the beautiful colors at the best time of the year.
You know.
Here is a photo after the wind.
View attachment IMG_E2429.jpeg
The colors were here. And then they are gone. As I looked at the dry, crumpled leaves at the curb I felt a sadness, a grief at the brevity of the best time of the year and for that matter, a sadness, a grief over the short span of life itself.
Ever since I heard the news about Steve Sutton, that's how I felt inside: a sadness, a sharp grief over the short span of life for Steve.
And then they are gone.
I have also carried a sharp grief for Dani, Debby and the rest of Steve's circle of family and friends... even though I have never met them personally. That's how it works on this forum that is different from other forums.
In the many thoughtful responses to Dani's post about Steve's death, someone mentioned Lee Harker. Him too. That same grief and sadness. Only I knew and hunted with Lee. And there are others we have met or read about on this forum who have now passed on from this life.
And then they are gone.
I suspect we will never know and don't need to know what exactly happened as Steve worked underneath his new-to-him motor home. I can't imagine the terror and lingering trauma for Steve?s wife after apparently finding him and furiously trying to jack up that beast.
Awful. Dreadful. Unfair. No, don't even try to put it into words. Words cannot express...
Accidents happen in this life. As we look back on accidents we have known, some are relatively harmless. Some accidents are fender benders, inconvenient but relatively harmless. Some accidents, however, cause great harm and loss of either the quality of life or the loss of life itself. In such accidents life as we knew it is altered and comfortable places are no longer comfortable. That includes a comfortable place like a new motor home.
And then they are gone.
I thank God for all that Steve Sutton gave us in this life. I pray for his family, Dani and that sphere of friends who grieve. For us all, it is a season of mourning.
Every person on this forum loves the experience of watching another season of mystery as the birds arrive and the marsh changes into its winter cloak.
Scratch a little deeper at that picture on the marsh, however, and we all know that we are watching time pass, watching our time pass.
Each of us has a different way of coming to terms with that truth. Each of us has our own worldview of what holds things together. Some of us believe that, ultimately, Something holds things together. Others believe that, ultimately, nothing holds things together.
One thing that we all agree on whether the subject is leaves on the tree or human life: it is beautiful for a season and then they are gone.
One question worth pondering is this: where did Beauty come from? Why is the world not all shades of grey? Why is even the dull brown of a hen mallard a fusion of subtle color shades? Where on earth did the drake wood duck get its crown of splendor? Where did Beauty come from in our world?
While we press our face into the wind and enjoy the excitement of the wings before us, we would do well to remember, and then we are gone.
That fact leads to a deeper question that each of us must answer: where did Beauty come from? Beauty, such as the life of a man named Steve Sutton. Beauty, including the brilliant color of a single maple leaf.
Larry
It is, however, so short.
It is my first fall in North Carolina after nine seasons in Hilton Head, SC. Hilton Head has three seasons: not so hot, hot and damn hot. That is only a slight exaggeration. The dominant trees there are red pine, live oak, water oak and a shrub/tree called sawtooth palmetto. Those trees are green year round. Well, not exactly: live oak and water oak drop their leaves not in fall, but as winter turns to spring. That is weird for a boy from the Midwest. The most brilliant fall colors on Hilton Head are the yellow vines climbing here and there over the island.
While Apex, North Carolina does not have the full winter of the northeast or Midwest, it is a four-season climate that I welcome. I have thoroughly enjoyed watching and tromping around in the woods this fall.
Here is a photo of a maple near my house in full fall color:
View attachment IMG_2434.jpeg
Splendid isn't it? I know it doesn't match the explosion of color offered by the New England mountains at color peak, but a beautiful tree is still a beautiful tree.
This past Saturday was Opening Day of duck season in North Carolina. Friend Ron and I planned a guided hunt on the Outer Banks. It would be my first opening day hunt in three decades since Saturdays were often full in my career as a Lutheran Pastor.
Not to happen. An unusual Low system sat off the coast for Opening Day. At the last minute we called the guide, debated about the potential conditions and upon his advice as an experienced waterman, called off the hunt. 50-60 mph winds are no place even for a 22' duck boat.
In addition to the dangerous waves and flooding, the pic below shows what happens on that ribbon of sand and earth called the Outer Banks when 50 mph winds lash the coast: a beautiful place to hunt and fish turns into a literal desert storm, a blizzard of sand that covers the roads and makes driving impossible.
View attachment EJg0_TzW4AYOOWt.jpg
This scene reminds a person of the lake effect snow areas of western Michigan, northwestern Indiana and the region around Buffalo, New York, except for one thing: instead of snow, that which makes driving dangerous is wind blown sand. The wind and sand were so bad that the North Carolina Department of Transportation shut down Route 12, the main road up and down the OBX.
That storm affected my home area by providing a weekend of 20-35 mph winds. Guess what a weekend of wind does to the beautiful colors at the best time of the year.
You know.
Here is a photo after the wind.
View attachment IMG_E2429.jpeg
The colors were here. And then they are gone. As I looked at the dry, crumpled leaves at the curb I felt a sadness, a grief at the brevity of the best time of the year and for that matter, a sadness, a grief over the short span of life itself.
Ever since I heard the news about Steve Sutton, that's how I felt inside: a sadness, a sharp grief over the short span of life for Steve.
And then they are gone.
I have also carried a sharp grief for Dani, Debby and the rest of Steve's circle of family and friends... even though I have never met them personally. That's how it works on this forum that is different from other forums.
In the many thoughtful responses to Dani's post about Steve's death, someone mentioned Lee Harker. Him too. That same grief and sadness. Only I knew and hunted with Lee. And there are others we have met or read about on this forum who have now passed on from this life.
And then they are gone.
I suspect we will never know and don't need to know what exactly happened as Steve worked underneath his new-to-him motor home. I can't imagine the terror and lingering trauma for Steve?s wife after apparently finding him and furiously trying to jack up that beast.
Awful. Dreadful. Unfair. No, don't even try to put it into words. Words cannot express...
Accidents happen in this life. As we look back on accidents we have known, some are relatively harmless. Some accidents are fender benders, inconvenient but relatively harmless. Some accidents, however, cause great harm and loss of either the quality of life or the loss of life itself. In such accidents life as we knew it is altered and comfortable places are no longer comfortable. That includes a comfortable place like a new motor home.
And then they are gone.
I thank God for all that Steve Sutton gave us in this life. I pray for his family, Dani and that sphere of friends who grieve. For us all, it is a season of mourning.
Every person on this forum loves the experience of watching another season of mystery as the birds arrive and the marsh changes into its winter cloak.
Scratch a little deeper at that picture on the marsh, however, and we all know that we are watching time pass, watching our time pass.
Each of us has a different way of coming to terms with that truth. Each of us has our own worldview of what holds things together. Some of us believe that, ultimately, Something holds things together. Others believe that, ultimately, nothing holds things together.
One thing that we all agree on whether the subject is leaves on the tree or human life: it is beautiful for a season and then they are gone.
One question worth pondering is this: where did Beauty come from? Why is the world not all shades of grey? Why is even the dull brown of a hen mallard a fusion of subtle color shades? Where on earth did the drake wood duck get its crown of splendor? Where did Beauty come from in our world?
While we press our face into the wind and enjoy the excitement of the wings before us, we would do well to remember, and then we are gone.
That fact leads to a deeper question that each of us must answer: where did Beauty come from? Beauty, such as the life of a man named Steve Sutton. Beauty, including the brilliant color of a single maple leaf.
Larry
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