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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