There was frost on the 'punkins' last night. Yep. The days... and nights... are gradually getting cooler. I'm glad for that gentle slope towards Jack nipping my nose. I prefer easing into the cooler temperatures, rather than the shock of a sudden North Pole plunge overnight that has me scrambling for my mitts and winter jacket.
Now... it wasn't until this very moment sitting here that I ever wondered where the phrase 'frost on the pumpkins' originated. Do you know?
Turns out that it's the opening line to an old bucolic poem penned by American author James Whitcomb Riley (1853–1916). Trust Google to have links AND YouTube to have videos of various people reciting this charming piece.
It didn't take but a second to find myself settling into the rhythm as the narrator spoke. I could feel a peacefulness stealing over my thoughts. I loved listening to the old dialect and catching the author's sense of wonder as the frost on the punkins heralded the changing season.
We don't have punkins in our garden. But having listened to the poem, I almost feel as if I've taken a walk in the countryside down fields filled with bright orange orbs. And so I share my two favourite links: the first one has pictures with the poem being read (no music); the second video has pretty music with just words scrolling. If you've got four minutes to sit and listen, why not listen to both... they each give their own feeling to the piece.
We don't have punkins in our garden. But having listened to the poem, I almost feel as if I've taken a walk in the countryside down fields filled with bright orange orbs. And so I share my two favourite links: the first one has pictures with the poem being read (no music); the second video has pretty music with just words scrolling. If you've got four minutes to sit and listen, why not listen to both... they each give their own feeling to the piece.
On that note, I'm away to enjoy my frost-bitten morning. Mr. Hubbs just brought me a freshly-brewed cup of coffee in my "Wake up and be awesome" mug!
So I'm wishin' you*´¨) > ¸.·´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨) > (¸.·´ (¸.·´ * an awesome day! *
Hugs,
Brenda
xox
Photo Source: Morguefile.com
Jist sumpthin sorter relaxin' 'bout listenin' to that poem. Love it.
ReplyDeleteThanks for a lovely post, Brenda...the colors are lovely, and I am perfectly willing to let you keep the frost there up north.
ReplyDeleteI do like that poem too!
ReplyDeleteI am taken with your expression of "the gentle slope towards Jack nipping" your nose. Fall has been that way here this year, softly changing, gradual and easy.
ReplyDeleteI've been fond of that poem for a few years and it's fun to read and hear more about it.
Oh, it's that time of year! We have no frost yet, but soon, I am sure. A lovely poem.... and a nice way to start the day. xo Karen
ReplyDeleteThis poem, a fav of mine is one classic reason of why I love, LOVE old poetry! love the picture too!
ReplyDeleteBrenda - such a lovely poem. I have so often used the term "frost on the punkin" but never knew it came from a poem. Thank you friend for sharing - I so enjoyed my visit. Have a wonderful day.
ReplyDeleteI like that phrase "frost on the punkins". Don't hear that too often anymore, and I never knew where it came from. Like you, I like to find those things out...little bits of knowledge make for good blog posts. Thanks for sharing.
ReplyDeleteYou are, indeed, AWESOME, my punkin lovin' friend!
ReplyDeleteAnd, thank you for stopping by to see me today at Beautiful Ideas! Always love your visits, Brenda!
I am excited as a kid at Christmastime to find a blog comment in my Inbox! Haha Isn't it nice to know that someone is stopping by to say, "Hi!"
Hugs,
Linda at Beautiful Ideas
I love that poem! Thanks for sharing!
ReplyDeleteEnjoying the fall coolness, it's only 80 degrees now...lol! No frost!
ReplyDeleteI read your blog.interested blog such as great blog Thanks......
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