Well, the Summer of '06 is winding down and for us, it seems, is essentially over.

Today, the remnants of Hurricane Ernesto brought gray skies and chill air along with the kind of drizzle found only in Autumn. Summer came and went too fast, and now my two boys have gone back to school, and that about closes it. My little one is now in full day classes, so my mornings are free now. I sympathize with their newfound loss of freedom, it certainly carries me back to a time when fall meant a reprieve for my parents and a sentence for me.

Hopefully the Barth will return home from the shop soon and we can use it find reasons that Autumn is more than just when you go back to school. Autumn reminds us that the bloom of life is impermanent, and to appreciate the days of sun on your shoulder and cicadas buzzing in the trees.

As a harbinger of Winter though, what can we do?

Perhaps a quick jaunt to the seashore, which by now will be bereft of tourists? Let my older boy use his metal detector on the beach as the failing skies try and pull out one more fine day? Beckon to the sun to emerge if only to warm those of us too cold to entertain the idea of swimming? Then we go back to Pennsylvania, where the mountains turn to irridescent fire and put to shame the phoney decorations that you see everywhere?

When one goes to the mall, one is set upon by plastic pumpkins atop a fake haybales, set in a forest of cloth brown and orange leaves. They are well meaning decorations, of course. They think they capture the essence of the season when all they are doing is but plagarizing. Real pumpkins have imperfect symmetry but perfect structure. They have gravity and density that turns into pie nicely.

Real leaves know how to whisper.

I have seen real Autumn, and it is not at the mall. It is the sound of a shotgun breaking open, and having the shells neatly fly over your right shoulder. The sight of tobacco stacked in the fields under a low sun. Riding on a hay wagon through orchards with your wife and kids snuggled together under a tatty blanket. A campfire with warm apple cider, toasting marshmallows under skies that suck the heat out of your fire. If you sit back and look up, the sparks dance among the stars so briefly that you can't track them. Sweaters now, instead of tank tops. Grass that crackles in the morning, and the smell of bread baking in the oven with a pot of Chicken Soup cooking slowly on the stove. Heat in the kitchen will soon be a boon, instead of something the A/C struggles to rid, so you start baking and cooking more. Cocoa is milk, sugar and cocoa with a dollop of heavy cream for smoothness. Cocoa does not come in a packet. Ever. And your kids are NOT spoiled..no matter what they say. Some things should be elevated above 'instant'.

So Autumn is soon on the way, and my sorrow for the Summer that is past is now upon me. I trundle my kids off to school, and work in my garage alone. I Try to get my projects done before the weather turns, just as my forebears sought to bring in their crops and slaughter their animals for the time of scarcity ahead. But my rush is a matter of convenience, not survival, and I am thankful for that.

Winter will soon be here as well. And the Barth will be as dormant as the Crocuses along my walk. Winter makes us celebrate with loud parties and garish decor, as if to shake our fists at it and remind Winter that the death it brings is but a temporary state.

Winter reminds us that Winter is ahead for us all.

But then, so is Spring..

Stunning and beautiful! You can paint a picture in my minds eye anytime!

Bill N.Y.

quote:

Originally posted by Windsor Dalrymple:


plastic pumpkins atop a fake haybales,

FAKE HAYBALES?

Is nothing sacred?

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the sound of a shotgun breaking open, and having the shells neatly fly over your right shoulder.

Lots of nice evocations, Windsor. I haven't hunted with a double since Eisenhower's first term, and mine did not eject, just extracted. Since I reloaded, that was fine. Tell me, does yours eject only a fired shell or both, fired or not?

I had a High Standard 20 gauge single that would throw the empty about 12 feet behind me. That was my first shotgun, and first gun period. Dad said "no" bb guns, since kids treat them like toys, but rarely treat "real" guns like toys. I currently have a High Standard "field grade" 12g double that is about the plainest looking thing you could think of. My dad bought it for me when I was about 18 or so. First time I shot it, It was like it was made for me, cheap painted-looking wood and all.

After my dad passed away, I inherited his AH Fox double. Krupp Fluid steel barrels, splinter fore end and light engraving. He bought it back in the 50's from Frank LeFever and Sons in NY. He had attended an auction and won a Parker double. He was walking away from the auction and found that it was damascus twist, and therefore he was afraid it would not tolerate use in the field. He could not afford to buy two, so he traded for the Fox.

After he passed, I took it out with a friend. I follow my dad's belief that you should not just put things on a shelf. I drove and repaired his classic E type the same way, right up until the day I had to part with it.

The day I took the Fox to the range, I found out what people pay for. It is like pointing a pool cue, vs pointing a baseball bat. I shot that one even better.

It is supposed to have selective ejectors, but to tell you the truth, I only open the action when both barrels are fired.

I have done minimal hunting in the interim, and no small game. The recollection was just of shooting trap across the broken corn fields of our farm, or at the gun range where we used to live.

Now my son is old enough to start skeet and trap. I got him a .22 for his birthday in june, and it follows that a nice single 20g might be in his future, or perhaps I will just trot mine out for him..

quote:

Originally posted by Windsor Dalrymple:
.

It is supposed to have selective ejectors, but to tell you the truth, I only open the action when both barrels are fired.

My 20 ga double had mod/full choking, so the idea was, if the birds got up close, to shoot mod first, then as the covey got father away, the second shot (full) would be suitable. It being a double-trigger gun, I could choose to shoot only the full-choked barrel if, say, the birds were wild, and got up way far out. They were often wild in the early fall, and sat tighter as the weather got colder. As an amateur gunsmith, I opened the mod choke to improved cylinder, giving myself a wider range, as I often put too much shot in a close bird. My dad, being wiser, just held his fire to give the bird time to fly into the ideal choke pattern. Nowadays, hunters can carry a selection of choke tubes on their belt.

I'm sorry to say I traded that gun away for a 12 ga pump due to the versatility. (IA had shotgun only deer hunting) I wish I kept it just because it was my Dad's. He always said that a 20 ga was all you needed if you had the right choke and could shoot. He usually limited out earlier in the day than his better-armed companions, and gave birds away to be able to continue hunting. There was an unofficial policy that birds you gave to the County Home did not count toward your bag limit. I often think of the irony of County Home residents eating wild game that city yuppies pay really big bucks for. In fact, they ate better, because wild game cannot be sold here, only farmed game. In Germany and Austria, wild fish and game is quite expensive, and only the more expensive restaurants even have it on the menu.

I have my great-grandfather's double 12. My father used it as his all-around - probably put 300 rounds through it, until he discovered that it, too, was Damascus twist...So now it sits quietly in its case. I used it too, and the first time I broke it, the shells didn't go over my shoulder - they went into my face.