A SALUTE TO NOVEMBER

November in Pennsylvania is the month of dry leaves swirling in a brisk wind. The green landscape of summer slowly will change to a dull brown except for the pines and hemlock dotting the hillsides. The oaks struggle to hang onto their leaves as they await the first snowfall while the bare arms of the maples shiver under cold gray skies.

This is a time of smoke curling from chimneys, wild geese winging southward, and once fertile fields stretching out barren and vacant. The last roses still cling to their stems along with the red berries of the mountain ash. Marigolds and geraniums defy the first light frosts of the season and stand proud in the chilly wind. Along sidewalks and on porches, golden pumpkins are piled in clusters or are marching in a line up sidewalks, showing off their many shades, shapes, and sizes. Dried corn stalks surround the lamp posts on the main streets of our towns, and winter wood is stacked in perfect rows along buildings, awaiting fireplaces and wood burners. Deer enter the backyards now and scour the fruit trees for the last apples and pears of season and steal the seed from bird feeders. 

November is a time for apple and pumpkin pie, nuts, hot  chocolate, a book and a cozy chair. It’s a time for reflecting on the past year and being thankful for the beauty of our world that will slowly fall to sleep under a blanket of white, yet awake again when spring’s warm breath blows across the land. 

And lastly, November is the time for us to be thankful for all we have as we join family and others in a tasty meal to enjoy Thanksgiving Day.

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                           NEW RELEASE - Finding Love in Pine Valley  

  

 

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                          SEPTEMBER -  by Helen Hunt Jackson

The golden-rod is yellow; The corn is turning brown; The trees in apple orchards With fruit are bending down. By all these lovely tokens September days are here, With summer's best of weather, And autumn's best of cheer. The gentian's bluest fringes Are curling in the sun; In dusty pods the milkweed Its hidden silk has spun. But none of all this beauty Which floods the earth and air Is unto me the secret Which makes September fair. The sedges flaunt their harvest, In every meadow nook; And asters by the brook-side Make asters in the brook. 'T is a thing which I remember; To name it thrills me yet: One day of one September I never can forget.   From dewy lanes at morning The grapes' sweet odors rise; At noon the roads all flutter With yellow butterflies.
Helen Hunt Jackson, 1830 -1885, was an American poet and  writer who became an activist for improved treatment of Native Americans by the United States government.                                                           ~ * ~
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OCTOBER - THE YEAR'S LAST, LOVIEST SMILE

Blooming lilacs

October arrived with the dismal days of relentless rains. Prior to this wave of wet days, September was cheerfully dry and hot. So warm, it tricked the buds on our now leafless lilac bushes and allowed the buds to start flowering. Now, I’m worried whether flowers will appear on the bushes when spring rolls around in 2025.

October in the Central Pennsylvania mountains is known for its vibrant vista.  Maple and birch trees burst into a panorama of colors from ruby reds to carrot-colored oranges and golden yellows. Foggy mornings, falling leaves, hills of blooming goldenrod, and the rich brown of cattails in the swamps, also add to our dazzling landscape.

The scent of wood smoke riding on the breeze means the wood stoves and the fireplaces, indoors and outside, have been ignited to chase the chill away and welcome autumn. It’s also the month of pumpkin and apple picking—a time when our hungry thoughts turn to pies, pastries, applesauce, and cider, served hot or cold.  

This year, the osage orange tree my husband planted years ago beside our deck for shade provided crates of oranges that we hauled to the local dump. The oranges are useless since the taste is bitter. However, Native Americans used its stout wood for war clubs and tomahawk handles. Early settlers and pioneers found the wood useful for creating wagon wheel rims and hubs. The ridged and scaly bark of the trunk provided both a fiber for rope and tannin for making leather. Thorny osage orange trees are still planted by farmers for hedge rows to keep livestock corralled and out of their harvested fields.

Many folks refer to autumn and October as “the year's last, loveliest smile." I think of her as a warm transition period, warning me and my Northern friends that the breath of winter is nearby. Raking leaves, cleaning out flowerbeds, storing away outside furniture, covering delicate plants from hungry deer, and searching for snow shovels are all part of the merriment of Pennsylvania’s October. 

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