One of the things that has annoyed me since I moved to Northern California in 1979 (I'm trying to let go of it, really I am..) is that people call the warm weather that we have in September, "Indian Summer". I have a very clear idea of what Indian Summer is, coming from the east. My definition is: "Unseasonably warm days that occur in the fall, after the first frost. Because of the frost, the leaves have started to turn colors, thus the name Indian, which refers to the colors, as in Indian Corn." I can't remember where I learned this, it's one of those things you just know, from having experienced it, or having it drilled into your consciousness at an early age.

The warm weather in September is a) not unseasonable, since it happens every year without fail, b) never after a frost, c) happens before the leaves turn colors. Therefore, it's not Indian Summer, people! But alas, no one listens. I guess I have to allow the transference of the term to this west coast meaning.

Anyway, this year's false Indian Summer is over now, and gratefully, we have moved on to Fall. The mornings are a crisp cool. The colors of the trees are muted, the grass darkened gold, and the skies are very, very clear. It still warms up during the day, but the days are short. Last night, we walked the dog to the park and ended up playing ball by the light of the rising full moon.

After the walk, we played Pictionary and ate ice cream. Aidan drew a picture of a man jumping off a cliff. I guessed, "a man, jumping? off a cliff?" and he shouted "YES! that's it!!" I said, "What was the word?" and he said "Skydiving!" Luckily, dealing with seasons in our nearly-seasonless state has prepared me for the surreal.

This entry was posted on Monday, September 27, 2004 at 1:03 PM. You can skip to the end and leave a response.