Tuesday, October 6, 2009

The Frost is On the Pumpkin



















"When the Frost is on the Punkin"

WHEN the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock,
And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin' turkey-cock,
And the clackin' of the guineys, and the cluckin' of the hens,
And the rooster's hallylooyer as he tiptoes on the fence;
O, it's then the time a feller is a-feelin' at his best,


With the risin' sun to greet him from a night of peaceful rest,
As he leaves the house, bareheaded, and goes out to feed the stock,
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock.
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;
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.
The husky, rusty russel of the tossels of the corn,
And the raspin' of the tangled leaves as golden as the morn;
The stubble in the furries—kindo' lonesome-like, but still
A-preachin' sermuns to us of the barns they growed to fill;


The strawstack in the medder, and the reaper in the shed;
The hosses in theyr stalls below—the clover overhead!—
O, it sets my hart a-clickin' like the tickin' of a clock,
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock.
Then your apples all is gethered, and the ones a feller keeps


Is poured around the cellar-floor in red and yaller heaps;
And your cider-makin's over, and your wimmern-folks is through
With theyr mince and apple-butter, and theyr souse and sausage too!...
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.

~ James Whitcomb Riley
(1853 - 1916)













































The frost is on the punkin
And the oatmeal's in the pot,
Come and get it, children,
While it's still hot!

4 comments:

Diana said...

I loved this Lisa. What a wonderful definition of Autumn!
Love Di

Natalie said...

I love your red and white cabinets!

Kim H. said...

Say it isn't so...frost, already?....

There is something though about punkins in the field with dying vines and frost.

And I too, love the red and white cabinets! I noticed them before and forgot to mention that. :)

Hope you're not too stressed with final wedding details. I'll be praying for y'all.

Hugs!

MightyMom said...

okay, I know you have about 200 kids and all....but I just have to laugh that you make oatmeal in a STOCK POT!!!

;-)


when the frost is on the pumpkin
tis a warning sign
it's too dang cold to be out here
get your butt inside!