Indian Summer

Smoke from a distant fire is an old song about the consequences of an event which, even if far removed, continues to have a palpable effect on the narrator's emotions and perceptions. Indian summer is that late summer phenomenon; how that last wave of summer reminds us of what was.

It’s early in October. Already Canada geese have stopped to rest by the cove, waking us early each morning, allowing us a moment to listen in on them as they discuss their next road trip south. Having read the Farmer’s Almanac, the local folk already have pulled out their sweaters, preparing for the winter that, apparently, is just around the corner. Of course, I deliberately refuse to believe that the trees will be bare in a fortnight. Yes, the nights are cooler; that slight but insinuating cold wisp of wind from the south occasionally makes its presence known at the back on my neck. Frank Sinatra’s famous September Song is once again hitting the ‘golden oldies’ air waves and our town, stoically, makes ready for the warm bed of winter; bales of hay in fields and chrysanthemum bouquets at doorsteps begin to appear. Even so, I’m not ready for “the autumn weather to turn the leaves to flame”. Indian summer is just around the corner, I assure everyone who will listen; my olden days spent in the great north coming back to haunt me. The weather will be warmer in a moment and bring with it its Indian summer. I pine for that short sweet kiss of one last summer moment in October that will arrive everywhere, not just here in this country but all over the world and even as late as November in other countries; that magical mystical smoke of a distant fire is readying to appear.

The Summer of San Martino (Estate di San Martino), as it is known in European countries is a traditional Italian expression for an unseasonably warm and mild period in early to mid-November, coinciding with the Feast Day of Saint Martin on the 11th. The Feast Day is named for a legend that Saint Martin shared his long and heavy cloak with a beggar shivering in the cold, after which a warm, sunny spell ensued following his act of charity. In Germany, the Netherlands and Eastern Europe this warm autumn period is also known as Old Wives’ summer, with an understanding of "old" to mean "late," alluding to the late, warm days of autumn. And in Turkey, this time of year is called pastirma summer because it’s a perfect time for preparing the cured, salted meat called pastrami. 

The Algonquian people believed that the weather condition was caused by a warm southwest wind sent from their Great Spirit ‘Cautantowwit’where the Spirit's house is located. The Natives would routinely use this brief period of warm fall weather to gather a final round of supplies before winter’s hold set in. The connection between Indian summer and the smoke from distant fires is captivating and evocative. The "smoke" from an Indian summer has both historical and meteorological origins.

William Faux, an Englishman in Illinois, noted that “the season, called the Indian Summer, which here commences in October, by a dark blue hazy atmosphere, is caused by millions of acres, for thousands of miles round, being in a wide-spreading, flaming, blazing, smoking fire, rising up through wood and prairie, hill and dale.” By at least the 1810s, the link between burning fires, smoke and Indian summer was clear. The Natives’ burning of the land created the smoky atmosphere and the prairies of the eastern plains, which were “burned toward the close of the Indian summer.” 

While early American sources speculated the smoke was from those fires, atmospheric conditions today explain the hazy effect. The more prosaic explanation is that an Indian summer is a period of unusually warm, dry and calm weather in late autumn, following a cold snap or frost. This is caused by a stagnant high-pressure system that traps air near the ground. This stable air stratification concentrates smoke, dust and other aerosols near the surface, creating a hazy effect. Other atmospheric particles contribute to the haze. In the Great Smoky Mountains, the natural haze is caused by volatile organic compounds emitted by vegetation, which scatter blue light. 

Literal and objective pronouncements worked hard to take the ghostly magical moments out of the Indian summer legends. Having said their piece, as the hazy weather events continued, but the practice of the New England area tribes’ land burning did not, the association between the smoky haze and burning grounds gradually diminished. Instead, the image of an Indian summer evolved into a time of peaceful tranquility and starry eyed contemplation for poets, authors, and artists. 

I remember reading David James Duncan’s writing in The Brothers K: “Then in October, Indian Summer, the air turned so soft, the sunlight so fragile, and each day's loveliness so poignantly doomed that even self-ignorance and restlessness felt like profound states of being, and he just wandered the empty beaches and misty headlands in a state of serene confusion and awe.”

Clearly, the Indian summer narrative has since recast itself as a grand metaphor to describe what has become of us in our later years: a happy, serene moment near the end of a life; a time of looking back with pleasure and gratitude for the life well lived. For me, and for others of our age, as I sit on the dock and watch the geese, an Indian summer can still bring that last day of walking barefoot in the grass before the cold winds of winter arrive.