Indian Summer

Now summer wanes into fall,

The heat and strife abate.

And coolness settles over all,

The sun lags so late.

Blue hazes obscures the farthest hill,

And thoughts like cattle hug the fold.

The peaceful air is bright and still,

Who minds this growing old?

Author Unknown

The hazy appearance of the fall days is produced by frost. When water freezes inside tree leaves it cracks the cells. The volatile hydrocarbon compounds are evaporated by the heat of the sun and the wind, and the skies have a bluish haze..

The Indians told stories about the haze and writers in the 1800’s recorded the legend of Indian Summer.

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