I want to protest the brevity of
this year’s Indian summer. I have looked forward to Indian summer each fall. When the days become short and
chilly, though the leaves are gorgeous, I must fight sadness and the urge to
hibernate. Knowing there’ll be that reprieve of warm days before true cold
sinks in keeps me hopeful until the holiday excitement takes over.
Some people told me we
were having Indian summer in October. Nonsense!
I learned as a Girl Scout that first we needed a frost. The Farmers’ Almanac says, “The time of
occurrence is important: The warm days must follow a spell of cold weather or a
good hard frost,” and that it comes after St. Martin’s Day, November 11th.
Most years that frost
is a snap of cold one night that kills the late tomato and pepper plants, the
begonias and nasturtium, and the delicate herbs like basil. This year’s frost was colder, harder and
longer, wilting even the hardier vegetables like kale, carrot tops and parsley
and fusing dead tomato stems in the earth.
And worse!—this year’s Indian summer lasted merely
one glorious day and one day less lovely, but nevertheless warm.
But it would not be fair to protest
to Mother Nature. She has every right to give us only a short respite after the
first frost. After all, we've taken the carbon out of her earth, sent it into
the atmosphere and upset her carefully balanced weather. Until we find a way to
appease her, we’ll have to accept what she sends—including today’s dumping of
snow, just in time for Thanksgiving.