The Run
Fall wouldn’t be fall without September. But if you look at it with a cool head, it’s not hard to see that month nine has more to do with August than with October.
Hurricanes, sure. But in the southern reaches of our far North we’re still chipping away at the same resident fish that came home with the June moon, the main charge of the Chesapeake’s broad-headed, deep-bellied wonder women: stripers built the old way, a pound an inch. September’s the last of our plan A tactics and A-list grounds.
Late in the month, the fronts start queuing up like 747s in
