In French, it is called, “l'été de la Saint-Martin,” St. Martin’s Summer. As far as I know it isn’t a reference to the Caribbean island with that name. Martin of Tours was a French Bishop, whose shrine was a stopping-point for pilgrims on the road to sacred sites in Spain. The only story about St. Martin that I know is that he is supposed to have taken off his coat and cut it in half, giving half to a beggar and retaining the other half for himself. I think some sources also credit St. Martin with refusing military service, starting a long line of clerics who find military service incompatible with their clerical duties.

In most of the rest of Europe, St. Martin’s Summer is referred to with various versions of “Women’s summer,” “Old women’s summer,” “wife’s summer” and even “Old wife’s summer”: “Altweibersommer.” In Belgium and the Netherlands, they just call it “late summer,” which is probably the most accurate description.

I don’t know where or when we started calling the season “Indian summer” in our part of the world, but that term has been in use all of my life and is still the most common name for that period of warm weather that follows the first frost.

This year, the temperatures in the hills have been remarkable. It was 93 in Rapid City yesterday, which is warmer than most of the days in the other summer that we had, before our September snowstorm. Needless to say, the snow has melted.

We do notice that the days are shorter. Since we’re still in Daylight Savings Time and since we are north of the equator, the time of our sunrise and sunset is about 6:45 these days - close to the same time for each this near to the equinox, which was Monday. 12 hours of dark and 12 of light - an even distribution, not unlike places closer to the equator.

But my days stretch out more than 12 hours - so I’m doing things in the dark at both ends of the day now and will be doing so for months before summer returns next year.

Actually, there are some things that are fun to do in the dark.

Paddling is one of them. So far I have been able to paddle every day this week except two. Sundays, I never plan to paddle, unless something special happens in the afternoon or evening and those events are rare. And there was another day this week when I decided to forego paddling to start my work day early. I was able to spend a half hour on the rowing machine later that evening, so my exercise routine is pretty much on course.

I wouldn’t paddle in the dark if it were a place that I didn’t know well. Sheridan Lake is small as lakes go and I know the layout of the lake very well. I don’t mind paddling across the lake as long as the air and water temperature are pretty good. These days I wear a dry suit, which extends my in water survival time long enough for me to get out were I to capsize in the middle of the lake - something that I have never done. I stay close to the shore if there is any amount of wind, which is pretty rare in the night unless there is a thunderstorm, which is reason enough to stay off of the lake.

At 5:30 am, I have the lake to myself. I know where to look for the first pre-dawn glow. I know about where the ducks will be resting. I know what features to look for even when the moon is just a waxing crescent like today.

The stars, are another matter entirely. They are out in all of their glory and getting to the lake takes me far away from yard lights that I get a good look at them. I always check out the two dippers, or two bears or whatever you call them. I like to identify the North Star and pick out Orion’s belt.I always have a hard time remembering the names of the stars in Orion. His left foot, the bright star that is below the belt, is Rigel. And one of his shoulders is Betelgeuse, a star with a fantastic name, if you ask me. I think one of the stars in the belt is Ainitak. The stars in the belt point towards Sirius in one direction. I often find myself staring up at the stars, uncertain which direction to go to find Sirius.

I keep meaning to learn more about other constellations, but I never seem to get around to actually studying them. Maybe this winter, when it is cold.

It is a good thing that I don’t need to know the names and locations of the stars in order to navigate. I guess I would either be forced to learn them, or I would spend most of my time hopelessly lost.

As it is I don’t need the stars to know where I am on my home lake. So I paddle looking up in awe at the magnificence of this universe and in gratitude for the blessings of being able to be out in the open air. I have a demanding job. I have lots of undone tasks. And yet, for nearly an hour most days I get to go out and paddle for the sheer joy of paddling.

There are benefits to not watching television or movies.

They haven’t yet made a television show or movie that would steal my attention away from the stars of a Black Hills night as I wait for the dawn with my little boat bouncing - or more likely sitting calmly - on the water of a reservoir where all the other boats are tied up waiting for the sun.

So it is some kind of second-chance summer, belonging to or controlled by wives or Indians or maybe even indigenous Americans.

For me it is an opportunity to paddle a little more and experience a bit more of the glory of the outdoors. Not bad. Not bad at all!

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