6:30 am. A thick blanket of cool, moist fog hangs motionlessly over the barely visible morning sky. It’s a magicians covering to a promising awe filled performance as the sun enters the stage from the east. Nature is holding her breath, not a creature is stirring in anticipation, save for a barking dog far into the distance. Sound does it best traveling in the still early hours of our forested homestead.
I feel my way into the kitchen and touch the button on the coffee maker, not wanting to disturb the entrance of the dawn with artificial illumination. Oh, the promises of Sunday morning! The slate has been wiped clean and the canvas is ready to paint a new week. What surprises are in store?
Old man frost made his presence known the second week in September just to make a statement. He wanted entrance into the magicians performance but failed the his first audition. He demanded and got a second and completely demonstrated his ability with a wicked killing frost two nights ago.
“Point made!” shouts old man frost. “My grandfather, Old Man, Winter will reign supreme here shortly and there is nothing you can do about it. It’s our turn for the next 6 months!” he smugly screams as he exits the stage and takes a front row seat.
With hot coffee in hand I’m watching from my damp wooden deck the morning show unfold and suddenly I hear the warm Dawning Sun whisper; “Not so fast Frost, I have a few tricks left of my own. Do you not understand “Indian Summer?”
Yes, I remember the TV weatherman saying we will be enjoying an unusually warm stretch, a full week of unseasonal warm weather. Perfect! I can get those chores done that I have been putting off. However, I do fully understand that here in the north woods our reprieve will be short as this is the middle of October all ready. Memories of summer fun and family campfires will give way to the misery that means old man winter has arrived.