The massive oak in my yard dropped its remaining acorns on our roof last week. Facebook nearly crashed when the first snow flakes of the season fell on Sunday. The lingering annuals in my garden died in unison with this morning's frost. And water temperatures in Long Island Sound just fell below 60 degrees. However you measure it, winter is coming. But before she arrives in earnest, there are a few fall fishing traditions I'd like to partake in. A favorite was checked off the list on
Columbus Indigenous People's Day Weekend when some friends and I hiked along a thirsty mountain stream in search of eastern brook trout.
An Encounter With an Elusive Animal
5 hours ago