The Frost is on the Punkin'

Long time ago when I was in high school, an English teacher had read a poem, and read it so well in its intended dialect. Fall is always so great and the poem brought to my imagination all the wonderful scents and scenes of fall. . .

. . . . They’s something kindo’ harty-like about the atmusfere.
When the heat of summer’s over and the coolin’ fall is here –
Of course we miss the flowers, and the blossoms on the trees,
And the mumble of the hummin’-birds and buzzin of the bees; . . .

Years afterward I could not remember who wrote the poem or much about it. Isn’t google wonderful? I typed in the part I did remember, and waaalaaaa! Up popped the poem by James Whitcomb Riley – When the Frost is on the Punkin’ ( also check out Little Orpan Annie, it is great for October).

So with the punkin sharing going on at the Nesting Place (I hope it is ok that this one is a little different than the ribbons :)) , I thought parts of the poem were so appropriate as I dig out punkins and fall décor and as the weather becomes a little cooler (they are saying 57 overnight low tomorrow night!!yeah!)

…But the air's so appetizin'; and the landscape through the haze
Of a crisp and sunny morning of the airly autumn days
Is a pictur' that no painter has the colorin' to mock—
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock…

I saw something like this a year ago . . . with the stacked pumpkins. I use the foam ones because it is too warm for real ones to last very long. Pumpkins in the South seem to rot pretty fast.

Then your apples all is gethered, and the ones a feller keeps
Is poured around the cellar-floor in red and yaller heaps;

I poked a holes in the pumpkins with a dowel:

And your cider-makin's over, and your wimmern-folks is through
With theyr mince and apple-butter, and theyr souse and sausage too!...

And stacked them up; Added some “faux-liage” and ribbon

And Voila:

I don't know how to tell it—but ef such a thing could be
As the angels wantin' boardin', and they'd call around on me—
I'd want to 'commodate 'em—all the whole-indurin' flock—
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock.

Happy First Day of Fall!!

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