Monday, November 11, 2013

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 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.

I always felt comforted by this poem by James Whitcomb Riley, not the least because my hometown hosts an annual fall 10k race called The Frost on the Pumpkin.

Work keeps me busy, but when I can, I go outside and stay outside.

I only had a phone with me when I took this walk, but can you see my new friends from Rutgers Gardens last week?




Winter is hard for me; I can't stand being cooped up. Or cold. Nothing makes me happier than being outside: gardening, beaching, reading in the sun. I'm already dreading this winter.

So while I can, I take two-hour walks. Even if the wind howls and my ears go red.

This wind is no joke.





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