What I Forgot

Thursday night I got out to the Huron for an evening, a rather short evening, actually. Didn't get onto the water until after 8, and I figured I would walk in on a Hex hatch in progress, though there were none of the big bugs in sight. Had I missed them?

While I waited for the Ephorons to appear, night thickening over the river, it struck me that I'd missed a lot of things lately, especially the vividness of nature. I have spent far too much time indoors, usually on this computer, of late, preparing classes, aimlessly websurfing (yet not blogging...), indulging a newfound fascination with crossword puzzles, which I'm picking up from my wife. Last Thursday, once I'd taken up my post near a sunken log I know house some nice smallmouth and began to relax from the drive and the rush to rig and get in the water, I was almost startled at how loud the chiping of crickets and cicadas was; really, taken aback to some point in my recent life when time outdoors was an ordinary part of most days. Like I said, that was in my recent life, but still at least a few years ago. So much of my outdoor time now is designated as such: days to fish, camp, hike, etc., before returning to mostly-indoor normality.

I spent most of yesterday in meetings on campus, and when I got home I promptly sat down to a crossword, but when the going on it got tough I decided to head outdoors and weed my meadow a bit to intercept some of those bad seeds waiting to fall beside those of my native forbs and grasses. Bending to pull quackgrass, nightshade, foxtail, I noticed a pronounced smell, one of herbiness laced with sweet fermentation. It is a smell I most often enounter on autumn days when leaves have just begun to fall, In fact they had begun to fall from the large aspens overlooking the meadow. Their autumn seems to begin around the tenth of August each year. Yesterday, drying bergamot added minty notes to that fall aroma. I surely heightened it too pulling up plants by the roots, loosing odors from burst stems and broken earth. What all this impressed on me was the substance of the outdoor world, surely the most obvious fact there is, yet one easy to put out of mind. It's a little disturbing how easily I--self-styled outdoorsman and tree hugger--can do this. Fortunately, I believe I can undo it in some measure too.

If you were curious about how my evening on the water turned out, I landed only one smallmouth, about 10" long, as the Ephoron emergence began. There nevere were many flies out, and I don't think I saw more than three rises all night. I drifted my Ephoron duns and spinners by likely looking covers but didn't draw any more strikes. I think I'll try to get out Monday night. And I'll be looking forward to hearing insects strewing aural confetti across the twilit sky.