By Adrienne Provenzano
I sometimes think that the other months were constituted mainly as a fitting interlude between
Octobers,” wrote naturalist Aldo Leopold (1886 – 1948) in his classic work A Sand County Almanac. Born in Iowa and later living in Wisconsin for most of the second half of his life, Leopold experienced the cycle of midwestern seasons many times. His words can resonate with Hoosiers as well.
Words of a Hoosier-born author that come to mind at this time of year are those of the Hoosier poet, James Whitcomb Riley (1849 – 1916). His folksy writings capture times of long ago with observations and feelings that are everlasting. Here’s the first verse of “When the Frost is on the Punkin” by Riley.
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 hallyloover as he tiptoes on the fence;
O, it’s then’s the times 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.
Riley continues with three more verses about the change from summer to fall and his love for the autumnal season and its colorful landscapes. He became so popular he was invited to travel around the country to recite his poems –try reading this one out loud, perhaps while visiting the Limberlost! Here are the other three verses!
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 blossums on the trees,
And the mumble of the hummin’-birds and buzzin’ of the bees;
But the air’s so appetitin’; 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-preaching’ 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 over-head! –
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 gathered, and the ones a feller keeps
Is poured around the celler-floor in red and yeller heaps;
And your cider-makin’’s over, and your wimmern-folks is through
With their mince and apple-butter, and theyr souse and sausage, too!...
I don’t know how to tell it – but ef sich 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!
Adrienne Provenzano is a Friend of the Limberlost, Advanced Indiana Master Naturalist, and National Association for Interpretation Certified Interpretive Guide
I sometimes think that the other months were constituted mainly as a fitting interlude between
Octobers,” wrote naturalist Aldo Leopold (1886 – 1948) in his classic work A Sand County Almanac. Born in Iowa and later living in Wisconsin for most of the second half of his life, Leopold experienced the cycle of midwestern seasons many times. His words can resonate with Hoosiers as well.
Words of a Hoosier-born author that come to mind at this time of year are those of the Hoosier poet, James Whitcomb Riley (1849 – 1916). His folksy writings capture times of long ago with observations and feelings that are everlasting. Here’s the first verse of “When the Frost is on the Punkin” by Riley.
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 hallyloover as he tiptoes on the fence;
O, it’s then’s the times 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.
Riley continues with three more verses about the change from summer to fall and his love for the autumnal season and its colorful landscapes. He became so popular he was invited to travel around the country to recite his poems –try reading this one out loud, perhaps while visiting the Limberlost! Here are the other three verses!
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 blossums on the trees,
And the mumble of the hummin’-birds and buzzin’ of the bees;
But the air’s so appetitin’; 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-preaching’ 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 over-head! –
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 gathered, and the ones a feller keeps
Is poured around the celler-floor in red and yeller heaps;
And your cider-makin’’s over, and your wimmern-folks is through
With their mince and apple-butter, and theyr souse and sausage, too!...
I don’t know how to tell it – but ef sich 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!
Adrienne Provenzano is a Friend of the Limberlost, Advanced Indiana Master Naturalist, and National Association for Interpretation Certified Interpretive Guide
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