It was a warm, sunny October afternoon one day when I was a kid, and as I walked up
hill of our driveway after getting off school bus at our Wisconsin dairy farm, I wondered how many more nice days we would have before winter came.I was still wondering about winter when I entered kitchen a few minutes later.
“What did you learn in school today?” asked my mother, who was in middle of peeling potatoes for supper.
Every day Mom asked what I had learned in school, although most of time I didn’t know how to answer because it didn’t seem like we had really learned anything.
Today, though, I had something to tell her.
“We learned about Indian Summer,” I said.
My mother paused and looked over at me. “It’s not Indian Summer today.”
I frowned. “It’s not?”
Mom shook her head.
“But our teacher said so.”
“That’s what weatherman said on television this morning, too. But it’s not Indian Summer,” she replied.
“How come?” I asked. “Our teacher told us that it’s Indian Summer when we get a warm, sunny day after it freezes.”
My mother shrugged. “Seems like just another nice fall day to me,” she said.
“Then what makes it Indian Summer?”
Mom paused to select another potato.
“We have to get snow first before it’s Indian Summer,” she explained.
“Snow?”
Even though it was already October, I didn’t figure it would snow for a long time yet.
“Does it have to snow a lot?” I asked.
“No. Just a little bit. Then after it melts, and if we have some nice, warm, sunny days, then THAT’s Indian Summer,” Mom said.
“How come?”
My mother sighed. “Well, I don’t know why, exactly. Except if it’s a warm fall day, how is that any different than any other warm fall day?”
I thought about what she’d said for a few moments.
“But if we think it’s going to be winter, like when it snows,” she continued, “and then it turns warm and sunny again, then we think it’s more like summer.”
