CityView Magazine

10 | October 2015 August ages me more than any other month. It exudes so few redeeming qualities. The heat is relentless. The gnats are constant. You can chase the giant red drum that congregate at night in the Pamlico Sound. Otherwise, your options for wild quarry are limited to stink bugs that make the brown spots on the late tomatoes. Eliminating them from the earth comes with the price of smelling that foul oil they spew out in defiance of death. McFadyen's Musings BY BILL MCFADYEN OctNov O ur children return to the classroom, some of them even to classrooms in col- lege towns. A subset of those leave behind a nest emptied of fledglings. Mama's tears drip onto floors of empty bedrooms where once omas was a Tank Engine and Little Ponies carried princesses on their backs. It is a sin to wish away time, but I confess that August thusly renders me sinful. In September, summer hangs on, but her heart is no longer in it. When you exit the house at daybreak, there is a soness in the morning air. By lunch- time, one still deduces that coastal plains and paved roads radiate heat. Yet, as the night comes at us a little faster each aernoon, we can feel that the greatest month of the year lies just around the bend. It is that time of rainbow-colored leaves. Pumpkins and corn stalks don front porches where just inside are mounds of candies awaiting masquer- ading children. e first mosquito-kill- ing frost crumples the grass and sends the lawn mower into hiatus. Buck deer lose all sense of self-preservation in ex- change for species perpetuation. Water- fowl do the great about-face, heading from tundra and pothole country for more tropical places. Somewhat like George Costanza's dad creating Festivus, one of the great outdoorsmen of my lifetime created his own celebration several decades ago. is was a custom-made month-long period of observance that encapsulated the greatest change into the greatest season of the year. e dearly depart- ed Jim MacRae of Cool Spring Street's lawyer district and equally of Gray's Creek's Cape Fear River basin defined this time of reverence as beginning each year on October 15 and ending on No- vember 15. at most glorious month of time in the great out-of-doors is known as "OctNov." We, the faithful, celebrate OctNov Eve every year on the 14th of October. It generally includes a bonfire following the casting of lead weights into Brown's Inlet. Or maybe it is aer one the first deer hunts of the season. Quite possibly there are to be found malt beverages in iced coolers on dropped tailgates. It almost always includes a rendition of "Happy Birthday to You" with the "you" being Mary Katherine, the granddaugh- ter of Big Jim MacRae, born on OctNov Eve in 1994. Around the aforementioned camp- fire or on a grill in that malt-beverage filled driveway, is some form of food most likely being prepared over orange coals in the fading light of the shorten- ing days. OctNov table fare was very likely swimming, walking or flying un- der wild skies mere days or even hours before consumption. Italian dressing is a common accoutrement as it keeps the organic meat moist during cooking while adding herbs and spices in a one- fell-swoop manner. ere will be butter. (Real butter). Wells vinegar-based marinade or a concocted bar-b-que sauce is standard. Peanut oil is a staple. And there is more butter. If there is wine, it is generally of the untaxed variety, stored in a wide- mouthed jar and fermented from fruits with a vintage declared by month rather than by year. You may discover in your country carafe chunks of peaches, seeds from blueberries or hulls from scup- pernong grapes. Unlike drinking a fine Bordeaux, you generally will not search for legs if you uncharacteristically swirl this elixir in a goblet. You generally do not swirl it very close to those glowing coals either. One of the common side effects is that you may temporarily lose use of your own legs however. If on Oct- Nov Eve there is this particular genre of wine, then OctNov celebrants (and their spouses back home) have learned through the years that the dawning of OctNov on the following morning will be witnessed by the participant very near to the place where the jar lid was lost and aer sleeping in a guest room or in a sleeping bag. We don't drive home. As OctNov progresses into its sec- ond and third weeks, observers begin to fast. From the office, I mean. We spend some part of nearly every morn- ing and/or evening communing with friends or in graceful solitude, oen hip deep in swamp water or elevated above the ground over some wild game food source. e commonly accepted Oct- Nov outer wear is camouflaged. It is un- derstood by true observers that no off- spring of the OctNov community may The most glorious time of the year

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