Autumn slowly makes its way down the rainbow-tinged slopes of Overlook, overlooking the Milkweed seed-bearing fields of Waghkonk, already missing their reigning Monarchs. With the slight drying-out period we’ve had, the Milkweed seeds are dry enough to be picked up by the slightest little zephyr and transformed into amazing little white, silky, parachute-like tendrils gently wafting across the landscape. Almost all of our migrators have migrated, although a few Great Blue Herons are sticking around (some will even stay through the winter, having been observed pecking at fish under the ice). Gone are our Ruby-throated Hummingbirds and our Monarchs (great to see a decent amount of them again,
As I write this, record rainfalls continue in our corner of the Catskills, streams almost instantaneously re-flooding because the earth is so thoroughly saturated that it can absorb no more, furthering our own Catskills Monsoon season. Just when Woodstock’s Sawkill was finally starting to settle down to a more seasonable dark green - bam! - right back up to its flood-stage “Yoohoo” brown color, which it has been running at for most of the summer and, now, into the Fall. This situation has frustrated fishermen (and fish, too!) to no end - not only is it difficult (impossible?) for fishermen to catch anything, it is hard for fish to see their prey in these conditions, whether it’s Brown and Ra
