Injun Summer...

Apparently the Chicago Tribune no longer publishes the poem and this illustration called "Injun Summer" by John T. McCutcheon every year because some readers felt that it "advocated the genocide of Native Americans and other minorities..." (you can read about it here if you feel like it). WTF???? Does everything always have to be so politically correct? Sheesh!

Anyway, the past few days have been really nice (hence, the lack of posts) and about as close to Indian Summer as it's going to get around here - temperatures of 21˚C/70˚F and mostly sunny. As far as I'm concerned, Indian Summer means any "warm" days after the first frost. We haven't had frost here yet, but I doubt we'll have any warm days after the first frost here, so I'm celebrating Redskin...oops...Indian Summer right now.

Yes, the nights are suddenly "fresh" as the Swiss call it, local restaurants are serving wild game (I had some wild boar filet last night), we've visited the local pumpkin farm, and the leaves are changing color. Fall is definitely here!

One thing I've noticed here in Basel is a definite lack of red leaves during the fall. There's a lot of yellow and brown, some orange, but hardly any red in the local fall landscape. Maybe the reason is that one doesn't see too many maple trees around here. Who knows? However, I decided to tackle the lack of red issue by taking matters into my own hands this afternoon with a visit to the local nursery.

I knew what I was looking for, and with the help of one of the local nursery employees, I found it - Euonymus alatus (a.k.a. the Burning Bush). It was a beautiful, reasonably priced, 15-year old specimen, which was good because it was the only one they had. I went inside and paid, pulled the Jeep around to the gate, and loaded the bush into the Jeep by myself while the nursery employee stood there watching me struggle...all the while telling me what a great bush it is. Ummm...thanks for the help...wouldn't want you to get your hands dirty.

Getting it out of the Jeep was a bit of an ordeal, as was cramming it into the elevator, and carrying it up the final spiral staircase that leads to "the fishbowl". Then, I had to go back and sweep up a trail of a zillion tiny little red leaves stretching from our garage up to the roof. By the time I finally got to sit down and enjoy the stinkin' bush, I was sweating like pig!

Jeez, that was a bitch! Damn this Indian Summer! Winter...bring it on!