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Spring has sprung and Charlie has hung up his ice skates and has picked up his baseball glove. This morning he had his first practice. A thick fog hung over the infield.

As I do with any new coach, when we arrived at the field, I mentioned that Charlie has type 1 diabetes. And yes, I make a point to say "type 1 diabetes," not just "diabetes."

I let the coach know that from time to time throughout the season, Charlie will run off the field to get his blood sugar checked. He might mention that he feels low, I added.

And soon after this first practice started, he did just that. He left the kid he was having a catch with and ran toward me.

"I think I’m low," he said, shedding his glove and sticking his finger out.

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All things considered, Indian Summer is my favorite season of the year. The mornings and evenings are crisp, but the afternoons are mild and pleasant. The air is clear, the leaves are turning all sorts of colors, and there's occasionally a hint of burning wood as people uncap their fireplaces for the cold season ahead.

Then again, the mornings and evenings can go from "crisp" to "cold". The very definition of "Indian Summer" -- a warm autumn period following the first frost -- indicates that the nights are more frigid than crisp, and that snow can fall when it's least expected. I can start out shivering in a winter coat in the morning and be drenched in sweat by the time I get to my morning destination, go out for lunch in a sweater -- or no over layer at all -- and need that winter coat again by the time I get home in the evening.

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