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December 05, 2016
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Shine on, harvest moon

Even Gianni and Dominic Gagliardo were aware that the ducks would cooperate during the race at Jeff Fest.

September 22, 2011

I am by no means the only guy with an opinion. In fact, I’ve been told that “everyone has one.” Go figure. Of course, if we all felt the same way about any of a myriad of subjects, life would be just plain dull. Pausing to breathe once in a while, I sometimes hear snippets of conversation that apparently take place all around me, while I am not talking. Or the center of attention. Hmm.

Since I never talk with my mouth full, I am often invited to dine with friends, which gives them a chance to opine while I chew on whatever subject is in the air. This week’s controversy: “What is your favorite season, and why?” As my pals presented their impassioned defenses for each of the four seasons, I contemplated my own favorite—which seems to vacillate, depending on the weather.

Living in the Catskills year-round gives those of us who do an opportunity to discover the virtues of each season on its own merits, since we are so keenly aware of the bounties that living with nature provides. Summer is great, but I am rarely on vacation, and a dip in the lake is part of my daily routine (cue the miniature violins).

Winter, though highly touted as “the most wonderful time of the year” has its ups and downs, but no one here in the Upper Delaware Valley can argue that it is often picture-postcard-downright-gorgeous when the snow falls, blanketing the bucolic country scenes all around with it’s sparkling, frosty layers.

Spring is a major contender for me, with Mother Nature’s promise of renewed growth, as the last ice melts, revealing the glorious awakening about to take place from deep within the soil. April showers also serve to remind us that the winter doldrums (stunning vistas be damned) will, as always, retreat for a while and give us a break that by then, most of us are ready for.

I left my personal favorite for last. Autumn. Fall. The precursor to all things Ho Ho Ho. Life in the mountains is always vibrant, but the celebrations surrounding a Harvest Moon truly make me feel alive. With a snap in the air, the jackets snake their way out of closets and the calendar of hometown festivals swells to a peak, in keeping with the foliage. Scribbling as fast as I can, I put them all on the board, knowing full well that I can’t (hmm) be everywhere, but must pick and choose.