When we were homeschooling , lo those many years ago, one of the poems I had us memorize was September, by Helen Hunt Jackson. I was reminded of that poem when Barry and I went up to Champlain Orchard this afternoon to pick some apples.
The golden rod is yellow;
The corn is turning brown;
The trees in apple orchards
With fruit are bending down.
The gentians bluest fringes,
Are curling in the sun;
In dusty pods the milkweed
Its hidden silk has spun.
The sedges flaunt their harvest,
In every meadow nook;
And asters by the brookside
Make asters in the brook.
From dewy lanes at morning
The grapes' sweet odors rise;
At noon the roads all flutter
With yellow butterflies.
By all these lovely tokens
September days are here,
With summers best of weather
And autumns best of cheer.
Every tree was just loaded! It took us no time at all to fill our bags, drink in the view, and enjoy the breeze from atop the hill.
Once home I made a couple of pies. Used up the old tired apples in the fruit bowl along with enough of the newer tart ones to make delicious pies.
Won't you stop by for a piece of pie???
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2 comments:
They look wonderful, but if the Pecks stopped by for a piece of pie there wouldn't be any left for anyone else!
I wish we could...
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