Archive for Indian Summer

Indian Summer, by Emily Dickinson

Posted in Poetry with tags , , on September 15, 2016 by telescoper

These are the days when birds come back,
A very few, a bird or two,
To take a backward look.

These are the days when skies put on
The old, old sophistries of June, —
A blue and gold mistake.

Oh, fraud that cannot cheat the bee,
Almost thy plausibility
Induces my belief,

Till ranks of seeds their witness bear,
And softly through the altered air
Hurries a timid leaf!

Oh, sacrament of summer days,
Oh, last communion in the haze,
Permit a child to join,

Thy sacred emblems to partake,
Thy consecrated bread to break,
Taste thine immortal wine!

by Emily Dickinson (1830-1886).

 

Another Indian Summer

Posted in Jazz with tags , , , on September 25, 2013 by telescoper

I posted this a couple of years ago in response to a discussion concerning the origin of the phrase Indian Summer (which, contrary to popular belief, has nothing to do with India). Looking back over my five years of blog entries for this time of year it’s quite surprising how often I’ve mentioned a late September heatwave. Now we’re having another one. In Welsh, such a period of warm weather at the end of September is known as Haf Bach Mihangel or “Michael’s Little Summer”, as it occurs around Michaelmas Day ( 29th of September).

Anyway, I’m not sure our little summer will last until Sunday 29th September so I’ll take the opprtunity to have a cup of tea outside in the sunshine and post this lovely old recording by the late great Sidney Bechet. So since we’re currently experiencing an Indian Summer, why not bask in its glow?

“You gotta be in the Sun to feel the Sun” – Sidney Bechet.

Indian Summer, a Poem

Posted in Poetry with tags , , on October 2, 2011 by telescoper

These are the days when birds come back,
A very few, a bird or two,
To take a backward look.

These are the days when skies put on
The old, old sophistries of June, —
A blue and gold mistake.

Oh, fraud that cannot cheat the bee,
Almost thy plausibility
Induces my belief,

Till ranks of seeds their witness bear,
And softly through the altered air
Hurries a timid leaf!

Oh, sacrament of summer days,
Oh, last communion in the haze,
Permit a child to join,

Thy sacred emblems to partake,
Thy consecrated bread to break,
Taste thine immortal wine!

by Emily Dickinson (1830-1886).

Indian Summer

Posted in Jazz with tags , on October 1, 2011 by telescoper

A chance comment on Twitter  concerning the origin of the phrase Indian Summer (which, contrary to popular belief, has nothing to do with India) reminded me of this lovely old recording by the late great Sidney Bechet. So since we’re currently experiencing an Indian Summer, why not bask in its glow?

“You gotta be in the Sun to feel the Sun” – Sidney Bechet.