When The Frost Is On The Punkin…(Video)

It’s officially fall… or autumn if you prefer!

When seasons change, we sometimes feel like we have a new beginning – a new chance.  It’s a check up time for wellness.

Fall brings cooler temperatures (if it’s still hot where you live, have patience;  the cooler temps are just around the corner) and colorful leaves.  It’s football season, almost Halloween… and even Thanksgiving is getting closer.  Many people say that fall brings reflection and nostalgia.

My dad loved poetry and when my sister and I were young, he would always welcome in the fall season by an early morning, memorized recitation of the James Whitcomb Riley classic poem, When The Frost Is On The Punkin.

Here’s a reading of the poem (not my dad) with pics from a You Tube video…

“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’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.

They’s something kind o’ 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 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 — kind o’ lonesome-like, but still
A-preachin’ sermuns to us of the barns they growed to fill;
The straw-stack 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 gethered, 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 saussage, 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!

By James Whitcomb Riley

Have a great fall!

Video Source:  You Tube