Skip to main content

Embrace the Fall Season. . .

A pair of Ring-necked Pheasants like I used to see all of the time during the latter half of Autumn in Southeastern Pennsyalvania where yours truly grew up.

The weeks between Halloween and the American Thanksgiving holiday are a pleasantly quiet time if you enjoy increasingly slate gray skies, earlier dusk, chillier temperatures, and garments made of tweed, corduroy, and wool flannel.  It is also the time of year when I most miss SE Pennsylvania.  I grew up in rural Berks County in a restored 200-year old fieldstone farmhouse, outside of Philadelphia and between the smaller cities of Allentown and Reading where, at the time, there was still lots of farming.  Holstein dairy cattle and feed corn mostly.  

When the corn had been harvested, you would see and hear pheasants like the pair above with their funny calls to each other and sudden, startling actually, flight from the fields if something rattled them.  Invariably, one or two would cross your field of vision and fly across the country roads as you drove by on the way home late in the afternoon or around dusk.  I miss that.  

The Midwest is nice enough, and I've been out here (Wisconsin, Minnesota, and Illinois) for over twenty years thanks to school and now work.  There are times, though, when I'd give my eye teeth to pull up roots and return to Pennsylvania.  If for no other reason than to see the pheasants, which, my parents inform me, I used to refer to as "silly pheasants" when I was very small thanks to the funny, metallic sound they make when they call out to one another.

-- Heinz-Ulrich


  1. Sadly, no more wild pheasants in Penna. But I know exactly what you are talking about.

  2. That's too bad. But if someone could magically transport my family and me to a pleasant (pheasant) spot somewhere in SE Pennsaylvania, I'd go in a flash and not look back.

  3. One can still hunt at preserves where they raise and release pheasants….it provides the experience but not the verities.


Post a Comment

All opinions are welcome here. Even those that differ from mine. But let's keep it clean and civil, please.

-- Heinz-Ulrich

Popular Posts

Avoid Careless Chatter. . .

    E specially about the personal details of our lives.  There is a lot that OUGHT to be kept more private in 2022 than has become the accepted norm for many.  With the conscious and intentional cultivation of classic style in mind, however, we want to avoid oversharing and keep a bit more of ourselves to ourselves.  Exactly what personal information and how much of it to keep private seems to be a slippery concept though.  Here’s my take based on what I was told and observed as a child and young person at home.  Basically, one should keep oneself to oneself in all respects (finances, personal worth, accomplishments, politics, sex, dirty laundry, etc.).  As my late father used to advise when we were very small, and I am talking preschool and kindergarten, there were particular subjects that were not discussed outside the immediate family.  There is a time and place for sharing certain details of one’s life, but most of the time, those should be played very close to the chest,

Chilly Late April Wednesday Attire. . .

    Y ou know, if it is going to remain this cold and blustery, I need about eight inches of snow for some more cross-country skiing.  But since the white stuff is long gone, it was time to fish through the cedar closet down in Zum Stollenkeller and pull out some cold weather attire for a seasonal reboot.   But I decided to forgo the usual gray herringbone jacket from J.  Press (my go-to tweed  sports jacket) and instead opted for this number from Hart, Schaffner, and Marx plus the tan cords that hang on the same hanger, so strenuous mental effort was not required.  Pressed the shirt after tucking in the Young Master last night at 8:30, grabbed these shoes, and socks, and Bob is your mother's brother as they say.   Occasionally gazing through the large library window to my immediate left this morning, and I keep hearing that old Jobim tune drift through my mind this morning (aided by the windmills), as sung by Astrud Gilberto ( together with Leonard Cohen and Paolo Conte, the musi

The Pleasaures of a Well-trained Dog. . .

  A few final photographs from my visit to my sister in Washington, D.C. last week.  These include  one of 'Mr. Beau,' my sister's meticulously trained and truly wonderful Doberman, another of my sister, second cousin, step-father, and yours truly on the steps of the church outside Lexington, North Carolina just after our late mother's interment service, two of me solo at the National Cathedral, and a final one of my sister and me hamming it up during a long evening walk the day before I returned to Michigan. My sister routinely walks to the cathedral, about three blocks from her place, to enjoy the grounds and gardens.  The Bishop's Garden, in particular, is a place she likes to sit for quiet contemplation and internal dialogues with our late maternal grandparents and mother, very much in keeping with the Episcopal side of things.  Our grandfather, who was raised Methodist, became an Episcopalian when he married our grandmother.   Before you ask, I am not sure tha