When we’re really
lucky, one of the great weather pleasures of Colorado comes around this time of
year. Often, after a brief interlude that looks a lot like winter, we
return to this lovely, crisp, clear weather when the remaining fall leaves hang
on for a few more days or weeks, the sky is bluer than blue, days are balmy and
mornings and evenings are cool. And you wish it could last forever.
I grew up calling
this “Indian Summer,” which seemes like a lovely name for a lovely time.
But each time it comes around, I think about stories of the origin of the term,
and I’m reminded of how our prejudices melt into our language.
Here are some of
those tales about the roots of the term “Indian summer.” Some are simply descriptive: it’s
said to come from the colors of the season—the reds, golds, and rusty colors that
are often associated with Southwestern Indians, or the copper colored skin that
distinguishes Indians from Europeans. But others aren’t as benign. Some writers
have said that the term came from colonial days, when it referred to a period
when lingering good weather allowed the Indians to renew their attacks on
the European invaders. Others have suggested that it referred to the warm
weather caused by fires set by raiding Indians. Some linguists have pointed out
that “Indian” has often been used to mean “false” (as in “Indian giver” and “Indian
burn”). So this “false summer,” one that follows a glimpse of winter and that
will surely be followed by more, is referred to as Indian summer because it’s
fake, it will be stolen away.
Likely, the term Indian
summer has carried all these meanings at certain times and in certain places. And
likely, I will continue to wonder (and worry) about this each time I have the pleasure of
walking on a day like today. And accompanying my wondering, if I’m lucky, will
be scenes like these.
Indian summer: the luscious, lovely, warm, crisp, colorful moment between fall and winter.
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