stanza my stone

Maria Konnikova, "Shades of Red: On Indian Summer"

“Babie leto. The summer of old women. Even today, years after leaving Russia, that’s what I always call Indian summer in my head. The stress on the first syllable, the second merging seamlessly into that bright le of false warmth…. In the southern Slavic countries, it’s known as gypsy summer. I’d like to think that has something to do with the colorful vibrancy of the gypsy music and the sound of guitar strings by the open fire. In Italy, it’s a time of year owned by San Martino, or St. Martin. In China, the rightful heir is the tiger: a tiger in autumn, they call the warm weeks. It seems at once more majestic and more menacing that way. The names are many. The legends, more numerous still. But one thing is constant. Everyone wants to label it, as if by giving it a name they could capture it for certain, make it last, somehow, make those mystical days more real, more concrete, more weighty and momentous.”