George Singleton writes of Indian god Cautantowwit and early arrival of Indian summer in September 1991

George Buster Singleton

(For decades, local historian and paranormal investigator George “Buster” Singleton published a weekly newspaper column called “Somewhere in Time.” The column below, which was titled “Watching for Indian summer and changing colors” was originally published in the Sept. 19, 1991 edition of The Monroe Journal in Monroeville, Ala.)

There is no set date for the beginning of Indian summer. Usually, it comes around the middle of October, but it might arrive a little earlier or a little later than usual.

One old sign the early settlers recognized as the beginning of Indian summer was the changing colors of the leaves across the distant hilltops.

Another sign was when the days began growing much warmer and dryer and the nights becoming much more chilly after the sun had set on the horizon. During this time the sun shines dimly and softly. The sky turns a rich blue and always appears gentle and hazy near the horizon. The air remains smokey and still with almost no wind. And the Indian summer moon often has a yellow or orange hue.

The American Indians always enjoyed Indian summer and looked forward to it. They called this time of year a special gift from a favorite god, Cautantowwit. The old Indian legend states that it is the time of year when plans are to be made for the coming cold weather – for the storing of foods and the gathering of warm skins to protect against the cold winds and snow.

It is also a time to look back on one’s life and see the mistakes that have been made and then to look ahead toward the coming tomorrows and select the path that will eventually lead to the land beyond the sunset. Indian summer was a time for the gathering of thoughts and a time to make peace with the Great Spirit.

There is a great amount of truth in the old legends that tell of the coming of Indian summer. Just this morning, I arose early and rode to one of my favorite spots in the hill country northwest of here.

As the old legend states, a faint turning of the leaves was noticeable across the hilltops. I experienced a quietness around me that hadn’t been noticed earlier. I found myself looking back over the past and remembering many things that had faded from memory. And, looking skyward, it seemed that the heavens seemed closer for some strange reason. Although the air was cool, there was no wind in the treetops. The air across the valleys had taken on a light blue haze. At that very moment, all the whole world seemed at peace.

As I stood there in these beautiful surrounding, I wondered of the coming winter. I thought of the cold winds that would howl across this beautiful valley, and the sharp chilled air that would creep into the clothing and chill the body of the one standing here.

I thought, too, of what was ahead. Would there be good times and good health or would there be sickness across our land? I wondered if the world situation would heal itself. I thought about the many thousands that might go hungry the coming winter. And I thought of my life and what lay ahead.

Strange, how with all our so-called progress, life doesn’t really change a whole lot. Our society can take a man and dress him up in fine clothing and make him look pretty good, but somewhere within him, he is basically the same he has been over the many thousands of years.

Remembering again the old legend, I looked across the deep valley before me and thought of the rich blue color of the morning. I thought of the gentle and hazy feeling around me. I knew that there had to be some truth to the old legend.

It was all around me. Indian summer was arriving early this year, as the old legend says it will sometimes do. Surely the god Cautantowwit had begun putting things together for the beautiful days and nights ahead. The soft blue haze that floated across the valley seemed to reassure the world that the days of this Indian summer would be perfect.

As I was about to leave this place of beauty, I thought of a tall dark-haired woman who had kept me, as a young boy, spellbound for hours on end with the endless legends that she remembered.

My beautiful and wonderful grandmother would have liked this place. I can hear her now: “Here you can almost touch the heavens.” I thought of how lucky I had been to have someone like her to fill that special place in my early childhood – a place that will always be in my fondest memories.

One last look across the soft blue mist that floated ever so softly across the beautiful valley brought to mind some of the words of an ageless Indian prayer.

Let the coming of the new tomorrow be one of plenty. May the corn grow heavy and the living good circle of our campfires with laughter, and let sickness and disease ride away on the wings of the great birds that fly above.

And, as I grow old from the passing of many winters, let me look beyond the glow of that final sunset where the waters are sweet and pure and the skies are forever blue.

Let me rest by the stream that gives eternal life, and as I rest in the morning of that new day, walk with me, where there is no death, only forevers.

(Singleton, the author of the 1991 book “Of Foxfire and Phantom Soldiers,” passed away at the age of 79 on July 19, 2007. A longtime resident of Monroeville, he was born to Vincent William Singleton and Frances Cornelia Faile Singleton, during a late-night thunderstorm, on Dec. 14, 1927 in Marengo County, graduated from Sweet Water High School in 1946, served as a U.S. Marine paratrooper in the Korean War, worked as a riverboat deckhand, lived for a time among Apache Indians, moved to Monroe County on June 28, 1964 and served as the administrator of the Monroeville National Guard unit from June 28, 1964 to Dec. 14, 1987. He was promoted from the enlisted ranks to warrant officer in May 1972. For years, Singleton’s columns, titled “Monroe County history – Did you know?” and “Somewhere in Time” appeared in The Monroe Journal, and he wrote a lengthy series of articles about Monroe County that appeared in Alabama Life magazine. It’s believed that his first column appeared in the March 25, 1971 edition of The Monroe Journal. He also helped organize the Monroe County Museum and Historical Society and was also a past president of that organization. He is buried in Pineville Cemetery in Monroeville. The column above and all of Singleton’s other columns are available to the public through the microfilm records at the Monroe County Public Library in Monroeville. Singleton’s columns are presented here each week for research and scholarship purposes and as part of an effort to keep his work and memory alive.)