Happy Fall Ya'll

I do not know about where you live, but where I live fall colors are peaking. We are experiencing gorgeous azure skies. Crimson and amber trees are dotting the landscape. Frost is in the air. Our neighbor's horses are frisky. Squirrels are scurrying everywhere. Deer are looking in our back door. I LOVE autumn! To celebrate the season, I updated my blog layout. Sure hope you like it. I would love to hear your comments.

Part of our homeschooling curriculum is memorization. If children learn to memorize early, it develops a part of their brain that helps them throughout their lifetime recall information. Both my boys have been memorizing Bible verses, poetry, and speeches since they could talk and boy has it paid off. Big C can remember most anything he reads and can memorize it quickly which helps for tests, etc. Big I can memorize long poetry passages so quickly it stuns me. He can also remember acoustic guitar pieces after playing them only a few times. Last fall he memorized the following poem and since this is one of my favorites and it is the appropriate season, I'll share it with you.

When the Frost is on the Punkin'
James Whitcomb 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 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.

See if you can say "The husky, rusty russel of the tossels of the corn" three times fast! I also like, "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". I like the clicking noise I make when I say it out loud. Weird! I know.

I have already ate my share of homemade apple butter for the season and am craving more, more, more! And please serve it to me on fresh homemade sourdough bread, lightly toasted with a glob of butter.

Just for grins visit a corn maze with a group of kids. It will make you feel young again. Go on a hayride. Hold hands and kiss the one you love under a golden shower of leaves. Jump and roll in a pile of crunchy dry leaves. Gaze at the full harvest moon. Munch a crisp apple picked straight from an apple tree. Build a bonfire and sing old hymns. Turn off the news and political fodder. Celebrate autumn!

Thanks for reading, Rosie.