Peevish Pen

Ruminations on reading, writing, rural living, retirement, aging—and sometimes cats. And maybe a border collie or other critters.

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Location: Rural Virginia, United States

I'm an elderly retired teacher who writes. Among my books are Ferradiddledumday (Appalachian version of the Rumpelstiltskin story), Stuck (middle grade paranormal novel), Patches on the Same Quilt (novel set in Franklin County, VA), Them That Go (an Appalachian novel), and several Kindle ebooks.

Friday, October 19, 2012

Fall Colors I

I walked around the yard this quiet mild October morning and noticed all the fall colors. Beyond the woods across the road, I could see the Peaks of Otter.


My little oak tree sported burnished leaves. 


The big crape myrtle by the deck has turned bronze.


We haven't yet had frost, so the zinnias still provide a bit of color.




The burning bush beside the bottom driveway glowed in the morning sun.


When did the redbud become a goldleaf?


Leaves from the pin oak have fallen.


Before long these green branches will be brown, too.


Today fits the following poem by my favorite poet, or perhaps the poem fits the day:

October

BY ROBERT FROST
O hushed October morning mild,
Thy leaves have ripened to the fall;
Tomorrow’s wind, if it be wild,
Should waste them all.
The crows above the forest call;
Tomorrow they may form and go.
O hushed October morning mild,
Begin the hours of this day slow.
Make the day seem to us less brief.
Hearts not averse to being beguiled,
Beguile us in the way you know.
Release one leaf at break of day;
At noon release another leaf;
One from our trees, one far away.
Retard the sun with gentle mist;
Enchant the land with amethyst.
Slow, slow!
For the grapes’ sake, if they were all,
Whose leaves already are burnt with frost,
Whose clustered fruit must else be lost—
For the grapes’ sake along the wall.


~


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