Late August in New England offers a welcome escape from the hot hazy "dog days" of summer. The recent weeks of sticky tropical air and soaring temps zapped energy and brought about a mid-afternoon melancholy that pushed aside any thoughts of organized activity. But now the pattern has definitely changed and as in past years we gratefully embrace the relief it offers. Drier air drifts down from the north and the sky above is so blue it's surreal. The sun has moved noticeably lower toward the south and just before dusk its angle casts everything with a golden translucence. It's a light effect I see at no other time of the year. Milder weather makes for crystal clear evening skies and we can once again stare up to see galaxies afar and wish upon the occasional shooting star. Even the moon changes. Its size appears magnified at the horizon and its color a deeper richer yellow. The brightness shines through our open windows and casts a magical pale glow as we sleep comfortably without fans or AC. So what do we call this season? It's certainly not yet fall - the leaves are still green, the local apples are not yet ripe, and there's no need for hoodies.
Although there can be no official "Indian summer" until the mandatory killer frost, a phenomenon that's weeks away, we're not so naive to think the errant hot humid day won't still make another curtain call. But we will enjoy the perfection of these days for however long they last. Some years it is fleeting and others extend well beyond the autumn equinox.
So again, what do we call this season between seasons?
Although there can be no official "Indian summer" until the mandatory killer frost, a phenomenon that's weeks away, we're not so naive to think the errant hot humid day won't still make another curtain call. But we will enjoy the perfection of these days for however long they last. Some years it is fleeting and others extend well beyond the autumn equinox.
So again, what do we call this season between seasons?
I call it glorious.
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