The bug finally hit last night. All of a sudden, the scene changed. It came with the 10 degree drop in temperature, the accumulating leaves in the yard, the smell of my old leather shooting glove as I brought it out of the case. It was time to bow hunt, and I could no longer wait. I had been practicing for quite a while, but it had not seemed real. It was something too far off in the future to get worked up about.

I grabbed some arrows and grandpa’s old watering can and stepped off the twenty yards, set down the can and then dropped the arrows in as I have been doing for years. The points hit the bottom with the same hollow dink, dink-a-dink. I pulled one out, knocked it, drew and held. The pin sat on the target like it had been nailed there. Time stopped. Release. I saw the orange fletch pass into the target and disappear. Bull. Time started again.

The ritual of Fall has begun.

Fall is a reality of meteorology and astronomy. It is also a reality of the heart. Summer left a week ago, but Fall started last night.

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