The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1909-11-11
INDIAN SUMNER DAYS ARE HERE
Squaw Winter Has Gone and the
Charm of the Year Is Now.

WoHI 10 speak OF the nrSt real GeHght-
full weather in October as Indian sum-
mer, but they are wrong. These are
the days of the real Indian summer,
although today may be bleak, chilly ard
cloudy, but now is the proper time for
the dawning of this aftermath of golden
autumnal days. According to old tradi-
tons, Indian summer never sets in until
after "squaw winter, and this we had,
with its cold winds and suggestions of
snow, while large majority of the
trees yet hung heavy with foliage. The
frosts came unusually late this fall and
pansies, dahlias, heliotrope and other
garden flowers were still in bloom long
after the middays of October.
But what is Indian summer, this soft
interval of balmy weather, which sue
ceeds the first bitter entertainments of
winter? While that would be difficult
to answer, meteorologically, it is easy
to affirm that it is the melIowest, quiet
est, most divine season of the whole
year, and sometimes in this latitude
runs far into December.
The characteristics of the season,
when 1t appears in all its glory, are a
mild and genial temperature, gentle
southwestern breezes, unusual bright
ness of the sun, extreme brilliancy of
the moon, clear, blue sky, sometimes
half hidden by veil of gray haze, day
breaks redder than splotch on the
blackblrd S wing and sunsets laden with
golden tleeces, the wooded valleys aglow
with the fires of richly tinted leaves
still clinging to the listless limbs or Law
ing softly where they have fallen, a
holy stiffness throughout all natures
walks and an intuition sense in every
devout soul of the Fathers goodness to
his ungrateful children. These are the
DAYS of which Bryant sung:
When the sound of dropping nuts is heard,
Though all the leaves are still.
And twinkle in the smoky light
The waters of the rll.
Indian summer is the breathing spell
of the year. The forces of nature that
have brought to maturity the promises
of spring seem to be lying in calm rest
fitness after their labors. There is an
unWonted dreaminess, a languor of
spirit in keeping with the soft haziness
of the atmosphere that lies upon the
landscape. 1t is a time for reflection
and thOughtfulness. What man can sit
down in this calm season, among the
sights and sounds of the outdoors, and
not experience feeling of gratitude
that he is in existence? 1t fills the mind
with poetry, a glance off towards the
bluffs, indistinct in the cerulean haze,
the wide prairies sea of molten gold;
fleece specked skies, soothing winds,
they all breathe a finer theology than
emanates from crypt or pulpit.
For all its balmy air, its blight skies,
its softened landscape, the Indian sum-
mer is not period of eXhilaration 1t
arouses none of the feelings of bouyancy
that characterize the month of Nav
and early June. Then all nature is full
of promise. Bud and blossom and leaf,
the purling Of brooks and the song of
the birds, all join in a sursum corda, to
which the heart cheerfully responds.
But Indian summer has a rather de-
pressing influence upon the mind. 1t is
suggestive of sombre reflections as we
walk among the fallen leaves and the
dry grasses and feel that the end of the
year is near at hand. The flight of
time is common theme of the preacher
and the novelist and the recurrence of
stated periods are always impressive.
The anniversary that the youth halls
with pleasure, to the elderly person be-
comes a sad reminder of departed years
and the chilly monitor of the approach
ing end
When the groves
In fieeting colors wrote their own decay,
And leaves fell eddying on the sharpened
blast
iIlaU odifs Uieh ull Se' Wien . eT tllei rust
ling bed
The red deer sprang or fed the sMill-voiced
quail.
Heavy of wing and fearful; when with heart
Foreboding or depressed, the white man
mark'd
The signs of coming winter, then began
The Indians joyous season. Then the haze,
Soft ana Elusive as a fairy dream.
Lapp'd all the landscape in its silvery fold.