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I heard the weatherman mention Indian summer last night and it got me thinking about this old print my father had hanging in his office. The two images were of a young man and his grandfather around a small bonfire. As the scene turns to night the smoke that arose from the fire reveals an image of dancing American Indians, the hay stacks in the distance become teepees and the verse that accompanies the print reads like a tale from a not so enlightened time: Yep, sonny, this is sure enough Injun summer. Don’t know what that is, I reckon, do you?
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