A few days of glorious Indian Summer.
I’ve stolen one of them. There is much that must be done. There is always much that must be done. I couldna let such a day go to waste.
I set out reasonably early to the woods north of Zimmerman Butte (aka The Pit; our shooting range). The songbirds played a lively tune as the fine morning light crowned Black Butte.
I was determined to make this a ramble, not a march. Too often I hit the woods like it’s a workout, focused more on reeling off miles than on being present. This day, I studied the ground, and was rewarded with tracks of deer, coyote, elk, raccoon, countless squirrels, several horses and one human hiker.
Somebody’s on a trail…
A herd of elk cycles through that stretch of woods periodically. They’d been through probably two days or so ago, making mess.
Hey! Sign of a nice cap!
Marilyn is convinced this juniper is haunted. I’m sure she’s right about that. Question is — by what?
Companions of the trail. The Thunder Beings smote that tree a good ’un a few years ago.
A four-mile ramble, followed by two hours of Frontier Partisans Biathlon (kettlebell complexes and shooting) and some heavy bag work smoked me, so I retired to spend the rest of the day reading, writing and playing the guitar. Glorious. The mountain of Things That Must Be Done is still there, but I am refreshed for the climb. Indian Summer is the Season of the Frontier Partisan, and it must be grasped in both hands, no matter what.
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And what is Indian Summer? ’Tis that last hurrah of warm temperatures (the day featured a 50+ degree temperature swing), coming after the first frosts and before the chill of true autumn sets in. The air smells of spice and feels like a caress. No one seems to know whence came the term. It is first recorded in 1778, in Letters From an American Farmer, by a French-American soldier/farmer J. H. St. John de Crèvecoeur.
“Then a severe frost succeeds which prepares it to receive the voluminous coat of snow which is soon to follow; though it is often preceded by a short interval of smoke and mildness, called the Indian Summer.”
I had long believed the term harkened back to the old frontier of New York and the Ohio River Valley, where the season marked a final, severe spasm of raiding against the settlements. That’s a plausible theory, but there’s nothing in the record to back it up.
Indian Summer is also the title of an erotic Euro graphic novel by Hugo Pratt and Milo Manara.
Betty Zane?! Is that you?!
The season does seem to get the sap up…
*
Above all, Indian Summer is a reminder of the brevity of our season. Seize the day.
*
The tune of the season for me, so far, has been Clann an Drumma’s Order of the Stag.
Keith West says
I’m jealous. The landscape here is flat and treeless.
JimC says
As Butch Hancock would say — the wind’s gonna blow you away.
Saddle Tramp says
And there ain’t nothin’ to stop it but a barbed wire fence…
Kinda like you Jim.
There is nothing better than a good Indian Summer and my memories of it in the Midwest are still strong. Something starts to fire up inside you and frees you at the same time. It was another scorcher this afternoon here but it cools off quick in the evening. Last weekend at the Woodies Car Show on Moonlight Beach in Encinitas it was a perfect 72 degrees and far from the maddening crowd. Good vibes all around. Glad you got away from it too and you are deserving of another sabbatical. Pull the plug and hang the “Gone Fishing or Shooting or Whatever” sign out for a week or so. I am sure everyone will understand. Knowing you though you will keep on juggling kettlebells and websites along with the rest.
JimC says
Till November, it’ll be a day here and there — but a break is coming.
Black Tyrone says
I have always been told that once in the dead of winter long after the last Indian raid, the fear of a sudden thaw in January or February would cause the Indians to raid. This thaw was the “Indian Summer”. Something feared by settlers.In any case, this was the story I told my high school students” back in the day”.
Marvin Minkler says
Thought about it this afternoon pausing among the old firs, and gazing out toward the White Mountains of New Hampshire with new colors of orange, light rust, and yellow starting to hold court on the autumn leaves in the distance.
Sat on an old granite rock and lifted up my face to feel the warm sun, and light breeze.
Wood smoke smell in the air from a burn pit, and jays yelling at each other in a cedar grove.
Do not need to read any poetry today.
Just briefly, I am in it.
JimC says
Well done and thank you.
Dave Allen says
Thanks for the tune, Jim. It will play through my mind as I scout the pinyon mountains of the eastern California/ Nevada border for the upcoming deer season. Been thinking of taking my old Sante Fe Hawken out of the cabinet and putting it to use this season as well. Your recent posts have echoed the sentiments I’m sure many of us keep. Fall has a way of reminding us of our mortality while at the same time reviving us from the doldrums of hot summer days.
JimC says
Best of luck out in that stark but beautiful country.
lane batot says
You ALWAYS gotta take every chance possible to steal some time back from The Man…..Sadly, “Indian Summer” remains just THAT, here in mid-state N. C.–Summer! Next week, though dry(a blessing after Florence!), it will be getting in the 80’s and 90’s F–DEFINETELY NOT like October used to be around here–but you guys have already heard me harangue about that enough….. But indeed, life is fleeting–just lost another old dog. Not unexpected–I have several very old dogs in the pack, but the one that went–Payatz(Russian for “Jester”), my piebald, bi-eyed Siberian Husky just up and joined my canine spirit cloak very suddenly. It was totally unexpected in his particular case, as he was the most vigorous of them all–you sure couldn’t tell he was 13. Also THE MOST SPIRITED dog I’ve ever known–I thought he’d outlast everybody. You just never can tell…..I believe that tree is haunted by PINE BEETLES!…..I think they mention Indian Summer in that “Myths of the Cherokee” I sent you awhile back. They also mention, I believe, at how the settlers began expecting Indian raids in the Spring when the oaks’ new leaves were “as big as a mouse’s ear”. Let’s see if they get any of this lore in the upcoming “Outlander; Season 4”!…..Yes, always good to go on a RAMBLE, as opposed to a “hike” or an organized exercise session–I tend to do my organized exercise separately(although I still lift big rocks off-and-on in my woods rambles, but they are hardly organized!). When I ramble, I like to take my time and try and observe everything–as the Lakota would say, “Akita mani yo”–“Observe everything as you walk”–the creed of the scout…..
Smart Elek says
It was through Hugo Pratt’s “Fort Wheeling” that I first heard about Lewis Wetzel. Later I tried to read Zane Gray’s frontier trilogy which had been a big influence on Hugo, but somehow his writing style didn’t work for me. I really enjoy your posts and all the information on the frontier.
JimC says
Welcome to the campfire Smart Elek.