Sunday, October 12, 2008

Indian Summer


"The air is perfectly quiescent and all is stillness, as if Nature, after her exertions during the Summer, were now at rest."
John Bradbury, 1817


Everyone knows what an Indian Summer is: a period of still, warm weather following a frost, preceding winter, usually in October or November. But there is considerable more controversy over the origin of the term. The May 17, 2005 USA Today published an excellent review of the subject. References to the term have been discovered as far back as 1778. At that time a French-American soldier-turned-farmer wrote,

"Sometimes the rain is followed by an interval of calm and warmth which is called the Indian Summer; its characteristics are a tranquil atmosphere and general smokiness. Up to this epoch the approaches of winter are doubtful; it arrives about the middle of November, although snows and brief freezes often occur long before that date."
-St. John de Crevecoeur, "German-flats, 17 Janvier, 1778”


Theories abound about the original intent of the term. It may be because this period was the time of harvest of the native American crops and the fruitful hunting that can take place. Or that native American raids on colonial settlements peaked during the autumn before halting for the winter. Since it is a meteorological phenomenon unique to North America, European settler’s referred to it as the “Indian’s Summer”. One source even attributed it to a maritime tradition for European ships plying the Indian Ocean trade. Ships would be loaded maximally during the fairest sailing season, the “Indian Summer”. Some ships would even have hull marks indicating load level for the period, marked “I.S.”

Connections, however, to the term “Indian Giver” are more rare. A few sources pointed out that early settlers with a disdain for the locals likely called this period the Indian Summer because it is essentially a “false” summer; implying that all things “Indian” are not to be trusted. Indian Giver refers to a person to takes a gift back after it is given. A common economic practice among native tribes would be to give a gift and then expect a gift in return as part of a trade. When their new European trading partners did not understand that the gift they received was to initiate a trade, the Indians took the gift back. A century later, the term Indian Giver took on new meaning as white negotiators promised native tribes one thing, then took it back in the next “treaty”.


Whatever the source of the term, we in Iowa are currently reveling in a gorgeous Indian Summer. The air is calm and clear, the sun is bright, and daytime highs reach well into the upper 70’s. The local restaurants brought their sidewalk tables and umbrellas back out of storage, the corn and soybeans are sitting in the fields un-harvested and drying in the sun, and the downtown streets are thronged with inebriated students. We had a week or two of cool weather: the sweaters got unpacked from the basement, the apples in the trees turned a sweet juicy red, and you could just begin to smell hints of smoke on the air as home fires were burning. Last week’s games were played in this “football weather”: warm enough for fans in sweatshirts and cool enough for players to work hard and not get overheated. But this week we are back to summer time temperatures and we don’t mind one bit.

We barbecued burgers in shorts and t-shirts and feasted on farm fresh tomatoes. We harvested dozens of bundles of basil, blending it into 40 pints of pesto to freeze and enjoy in the deepest, coldest part of winter (homemade pesto in January tastes like a little touch of summer). We played on the lawn with our babies, drinking beer and hoping the sunshine would never end. And when the sun finally did set, we headed inside to watch multiple games on two projectors: Penn State- Wisconsin, Florida- LSU, and Missouri- Oklahoma State. Drained by the hot sun, numbed by countless bottles of Sierra Nevada Porter, and engorged on chips, guacamole, and tamales, we slipped into a deep coma on the couch, dreaming of the endless summer.


Fight On,
Hans

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