Pumpkin Farm ~ Ode to Autumn

It was a beautiful cloudy day when we set out for pumpkins.

All photos Fete et Fleur

This is the tree outside our door.

All photos Fete et Fleur

There were no big jumpies or large corn mazes to get lost in for hours. There were just pumpkins, pumpkins everywhere, in piles and growing on the ground.

All photos Fete et Fleur

All photos Fete et Fleur

It was wonderful to be out there in the middle of this huge pumpkin field. The wind was gently blowing. I felt all the cobwebs leave my mind. And I fell into the gentle rhythm of nature.

It reminded me of this poem by John Muir.

In autumn when the trees are brown
The little leaves come tumbling down
They do not make the slightest sound
But lie so quietly on the ground
Until the wind comes puffing by
And blows them off towards the sky.

The winds will blow their own freshness into you,
and the storms their energy,
while cares will drop away from you
like the leaves of Autumn.



The proprietress of the farm had large sunflowers planted in the pumpkin field. You could clip a large head for a dollar. I took one home to enjoy, and later I will set it out for the birds.

All photos Fete et Fleur

My favorite Ode to Autumn

Merry Autumn

by

Paul Laurence Dunbar

It's all a farce, these tales they tell
About the breezes sighing,
And moans astir o'er field and dell,
Because the year is dying.

Such principles are most absurd,
I care not who first taught 'em;
There's nothing known to beast or bird
To make a solemn autumn.

In solemn times, when grief holds sway
With countenance distressing,
You'll note the more of black and gray
Will then be used in dressing.

Now purple tints are all around;
The sky is blue and mellow;
And e'en the grasses turn the ground
From modest green to yellow.

The seed burs all with laughter crack
On featherweed and jimson;
And leaves that should be dressed in black
Are all decked out in crimson.

A butterfly goes winging by;
A singing bird comes after;
And Nature, all from earth to sky,
Is bubbling o'er with laughter.

The ripples wimple on the rills,
Like sparkling little lasses;
The sunlight runs along the hills,
And laughs among the grasses.

The earth is just so full of fun
It really can't contain it;
And streams of mirth so freely run
The heavens seem to rain it.

Don't talk to me of solemn days
In autumn's time of splendor,
Because the sun shows fewer rays,
And these grow slant and slender.

Why, it's the climax of the year,
The highest time of living!
Till naturally its bursting cheer
Just melts into thanksgiving.

All photos Fete et Fleur