Indian Summer

It’s 80 degrees and sunny- the glow that shines between the branches of the trees is a reminder of the struggle: nature is trying to hold onto summer as fall encroaches. In just a few weeks, the branches will be bare. The leaves will have fought the good fight and will have accepted defeat.

For now, in Virginia, we’re experiencing something called Indian Summer. It’s muggy and humid, despite the fact that we’ve already celebrated the autumnal equinox. Nature isn’t ready to give it up.

I took a stroll around the house this afternoon. Mums and pansies of various autumnal hues have replaced summer annuals.  The regal purples, the cheerful golds, and the vibrant oranges stand in place of the bright colors and pastels from just a few weeks ago. All the while, crispy leaves, cacophonous under my ballet flats, cry out to the other leaves to hold on to the branches for just a while longer. This is that weird time of autumn when nature can’t decide what to do. It’s as though it’s fighting to hold onto summer even though winter is coming.

A gust of wind blows and something like 20 leaves fall to the ground. Only about 1/3 of the poplar leaves are now yellow, many remain green. They cling so intently to the idea of summer.

But isn’t that what we’re supposed to do sometimes- hold onto something with all we’ve got?  

In life, we find something of value- a goal, a job, a city, a friend, or even a lover, and we slowly uncover the depths of its beauty. We see its goodness and accept its flaws. If something jeopardizes its longevity, we fight to preserve the thing we have grown so fond of. There’s a part of us that craves nostalgia, another part that struggles to accept change, and probably another part that fears what the new chapter may look like. When we stand in front of eminent decay, we have to wonder if life and beauty will ever come back, or if we are destined to live a life like a tree stripped of its leaves.

My friend Faith teaches high school biology. She’s teaching her students about photosynthesis and was chatting me up about leaves earlier today. I asked her why the chloroplasts stopped producing chlorophyll in autumn. She told me about light energy allowing plants to make sugar, but not all of the green wavelengths are used, so the color that is reflected to our eyes.

In the fall, the plants retreat inward because there isn’t enough light. The leaves salvage what they can. The utilitarian pigments break down and are used and what’s not being absorbed is reflected to our eyes. She said, “Even nature preserves what it can for as long as possible.”

Some of us like to prolong the inevitable. There’s something decadent about savoring the last few moments of something. It’s like watching a candle flicker just before the flame dies- it’s dramatic and sad all at once. We want to preserve the things that bring us great joy, even if we know that they have an expiration date.

Although many of us have pulled out sweaters and faded flannel shirts, in preparation of a wardrobe shift, and stocked our shelves with cinnamon and a myriad of pumpkin products, Indian Summer makes sense to those of us who have fought to preserve something. This warm weather is nature’s last attempt to assert herself. It’s going to be one of the final times this year that she can cling to warm weather before it’s frost season.

I would prefer to be wearing boots and leggings. My frizzy hair would like a less humid day.  I would rather order a warm tea instead of one over ice. But, this week as I try to hold on to some things for a little longer, I’ll sympathize with Mother Nature and enjoy one last burst of summer.