Indian Summer; I checked Wikipedia for a definition; not that I needed one, just checking. It said Indian Summer referred to a period of warm, dry, pleasant weather late in the fall. It also alluded to a period of success or happiness late in one’s life. I had not made the Late In Life association before but by my sense of measure, I don’t feel like 'Late Life' yet though I know it won’t be long. I have plenty of time to beg the question or maybe not, depending on how you frame the thought. I always thought Indian Summer required a consecutive three-day stretch of warm-sunny reprieve sometime after the first hard freeze. Still it never escaped me that it was indeed that, a reprieve.
Winter in West Michigan can be unforgiving. Canadian Clippers blow down out of Alberta and Manitoba only to sweep across Lake Michigan. Their frigid temps and snow can hang around until mid April. I remember a three or four day stretch of balmy, shirtsleeve weather at Thanksgiving in ’77 or ’78. We raked leaves into huge piles, buried each other and played like we were searching for them to no avail, crouched under all those leaves. It wouldn’t be all that long before snow and cold drove us inside. Outside fun and games didn’t last long. Coming back in, time spent next to the wood stove was equal to the frosty adventure.
Indian Summer has a cautionary element, as if the Powers of the North are making known their intentions. “Take it while you can because it won’t last long.” I still think of it that way. For happy times late in life I milk the moment for all it is worth. All I have is the moment, it’s all I’ve ever had. It is always ‘right now’. If it is a sweet time then I want to make it a lasting memory.
Today is the fifth straight day of shirtsleeve weather in mid January. It comes after two weeks 10 degree freeze and bone chilling wind. I wouldn’t call it ‘Indian’ anything, just another spontaneous reprieve. Still it is what it is and I don’t take it for granted. We are nowhere near the end of winter, even for Missouri with Global Warming. I am still wearing wool socks. Today is happening right now but it has brought with it fond memories which only make it better.
In ’78 I was younger then than my children are now. That is unsettling. I want to think of them with their lives stretched out in front of them, full of promise and possibility. Indian Summer is the reminder that all things come and then they pass. King Solomon really was a smart man to observe, there is a time for everything under the sun. Maybe that is why we serve dessert last.
Winter in West Michigan can be unforgiving. Canadian Clippers blow down out of Alberta and Manitoba only to sweep across Lake Michigan. Their frigid temps and snow can hang around until mid April. I remember a three or four day stretch of balmy, shirtsleeve weather at Thanksgiving in ’77 or ’78. We raked leaves into huge piles, buried each other and played like we were searching for them to no avail, crouched under all those leaves. It wouldn’t be all that long before snow and cold drove us inside. Outside fun and games didn’t last long. Coming back in, time spent next to the wood stove was equal to the frosty adventure.
Indian Summer has a cautionary element, as if the Powers of the North are making known their intentions. “Take it while you can because it won’t last long.” I still think of it that way. For happy times late in life I milk the moment for all it is worth. All I have is the moment, it’s all I’ve ever had. It is always ‘right now’. If it is a sweet time then I want to make it a lasting memory.
Today is the fifth straight day of shirtsleeve weather in mid January. It comes after two weeks 10 degree freeze and bone chilling wind. I wouldn’t call it ‘Indian’ anything, just another spontaneous reprieve. Still it is what it is and I don’t take it for granted. We are nowhere near the end of winter, even for Missouri with Global Warming. I am still wearing wool socks. Today is happening right now but it has brought with it fond memories which only make it better.
In ’78 I was younger then than my children are now. That is unsettling. I want to think of them with their lives stretched out in front of them, full of promise and possibility. Indian Summer is the reminder that all things come and then they pass. King Solomon really was a smart man to observe, there is a time for everything under the sun. Maybe that is why we serve dessert last.
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