Boomer’s Journal:

Oh Fall, Where Art Thou

By Tom Anselm

I was sweating last weekend. I had the opportunity to seize on

a day when my grandsons didn’t have at least one soccer game or baseball practice. So I hauled The Three Amigos, aka Pete, Patrick, and Johnny, to a lake behind our house and a par-three golf course for a little G-pa time. We got a grand total of zero bites and at least four tangles in five minutes, possibly a new world record, in our time at the water’s edge.

In fact, Bubba (Pat) had his line askew in the first 30 seconds. Petey managed to cast the top two pieces of his pole into the lake, falling to the ground laughing as he held the remaining bottom piece.

And John snagged his rig right where I warned him not to cast. Thank goodness we weren’t relying on our catch for lunch, which soon came with burgers and fries and ice cream.

Did a little better at the course, with all the boys kicking my butt and some rather heated competition on the last few holes. Success was achieved on the day when John said on the ride home… “Hey Grampa… we should do this every month And so we should.

However, back to the first line. Sweating was the rule of the afternoon. And here we were in November. In fact, as I write this, the high last Wednesday was 83, a new record for the date. In November! So the operative question here is… where the H-E double-hockey-sticks is Fall?

The trees this year begin with a few

exceptional sweet gums and dogwoods, produced a lackluster brown hue. However, in Florissant within the past week, the orange and yellow hues were brighter, more traditional fall colors, but just later this year.

But seldom did I see bursting-oranges or vibrant reds this season, if you can even call it that. By now, we would have had at least of couple of fires in the old fireplace, but as of last Wednesday, no luck. On the other hand, historically speaking, I recall some of our high

school homecoming games in good weather, and two of our daughter’s mid-November weddings were graced with the loveliest of days. So maybe this is just the normal for the region.

Honestly, though, I shouldn’t complain.

These moderate temps have made for

some pleasant soccer-watching. Anyone who planned a wedding has had an unexpected gift, and even the opposite event, funeral visits to cemeteries, were blessed with easy sun and cooling shade as we laid to rest our loved ones.

There may still be some time for more

golf with the young-un’s, even try to remedy our casting woes, snag a couple of fishies before the real cold sets in. I do not at all look forward to scraping windshields, slip-sliding icy roads, battling biting winds and stemming snotty noses… my own and others.

One thing is certain, however.

I guarantee we will have a roaring fire behind the hearth on Thanksgiving Day. Even if it hits 50.

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