There is no denying that Fall is the best season of all. In the south the scorching temperatures merely mute themselves yet refuse to yield their sweat producing fury all together but the morning and evenings are nothing short of Glory personified. Out West the first snow is falling as the mountains regain their white capped majesty reflecting those same glorious mornings’ first rays in pinks and purples and oranges mirroring the aspens and birches. Put away the dry flies, or maybe leave them out for one special afternoon and one special midge sipper, but now lets transition to campfires and tin cups of bourbon and streamers and cold fingers. The feeling won’t last for long and soon enough we will all be wearing shorts again anyway.
-The Editors