Autumn In the Heart

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Autumn In the Heart

(Playing ~ "The Autumn Leaves")

Other seasonal music can be heard as you scroll down and click on the selection.
Refreshing the page will bring you back to the original background music.

Autumn was always my favorite time of the year, especially in the days when the four seasons
were more distinct than now. Fall days were mostly clear, cool, crisp and sunny. The trees put on
majestic colors, and the leaves floated around obeying the command of the wind, making a
beautiful multi-colored carpet on the ground.

The excitement of a new school year was in the air; school didn't start until right after Labor Day.
Our college campus was especially beautiful, and the atmosphere was invigorating. Football reigned as King,
and, 'though I never did understand the game, in high school I marched at every game as part of the Drill Squad.
In college, I attended to support our team and for the fellowship.

Below are some favorite poems as a salute to Autumn, including a surprise salute to Thanksgiving.

A VAGABOND SONG

There is something in the Autumn that is native to my blood ~
Touch of manner, hint of mood;
And my heart is like a rhyme,
With the yellow and the purple and the crimson keeping time.

The scarlet of the maples can shake me like a cry
Of bugles going by.
And my lonely spirit thrills
To see the frosty asters like a smoke upon the hills.

There is something in October sets the gypsy blood astir;
We must rise and follow her,
When from every hill of flame
She calls and calls each vagabond by name.

~ Bliss Carman

Autumn Morning at Cambridge

Autumn In New York
(click to hear)

I ran out in the morning when the air was clean and new,
And all the grass was glittering, grey with autumn dew,
I ran out to the apple trees and pulled an apple down,
And all the bells were ringing in the old grey town.
Down in the town, off the bridges and the grass,
They are sweeping up the leaves to let the people pass,
Sweeping up the old leaves, golden-reds and browns,
While the men go to lecture with the wind in their gowns.: ~ Frances Cornford

October's Party

October gave a party;
The leaves by hundreds came ~
The Chestnuts, Oaks, and Maples,
And leaves of every name.
The Sunshine spread a carpet,
And everything was grand,
Miss Weather led the dancing,
Professor Wind the band.

The Chestnuts came in yellow,
The Oaks in crimson dressed;
The lovely Misses Maple
In scarlet looked their best;
All balanced to their partners,
And gaily fluttered by;
The sight was like a rainbow
New fallen from the sky.

Then, in the rustic hollow,
At hide-and-seek they played,
The party closed at sundown,
And everybody stayed.
Professor Wind played louder;
They flew along the ground;
And then the party ended
In jolly "hands around."

~ George Cooper

WHEN THE FROST IS ON THE PUNKIN

September Song
(click to hear)

     When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock,
    And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin' turkey-cock,
     And the clackin' of the guineys, and the cluckin' of the hens,
     And the rooster's hallylooyer as he tiptoes on the fence;
     O, it's then's the times a feller is a-feelin' at his best,
     With the risin' sun to greet him from a night of peaceful rest,
     As he leaves the house, bareheaded, and goes out to feed the stock,
     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.

The husky, rusty russel of the tossels of the corn,
   And the raspin' of the tangled leaves, as golden as the morn;
   The stubble in the furries ~ kindo' lonesome-like, but still
   A-preachin' sermuns to us of the barns they growed to fill;
   The strawstack in the medder, and the reaper in the shed;
The hosses in theyr stalls below -- the clover over-head!
   O, it sets my hart a-clickin' like the tickin' of a clock,
   When the frost is on the punkin and
the fodder's in the shock!

   Then your apples all is gethered, and the ones a feller keeps
Is poured around the celler-floor in red and yeller heaps;
   And your cider-makin' 's over, and your wimmern-folks is through
   With their mince and apple-butter, and theyr souse and saussage, too!
   I don't know how to tell it ~ but ef sich a thing could be
   As the Angels wantin' boardin', and they'd call around on me ~
   I'd want to 'commodate 'em ~ all the whole-indurin' flock ~
   When the frost is on the punkin and
the fodder's in the shock!

~ James Whitcomb Riley
(1849-1916)

Happy Thanksgiving

Twas the night before Thanksgiving and in my sleep
Strange dreams in my mind, began to creep.

Thanksgiving leftovers beckoned --- The dark meat and white,
But I fought the temptation with all of my might.

Tossing and turning with anticipation......
The thought of a snack became infatuation.....

So to the kitchen I did race, Flung open the door,
And gazed at the fridge full of goodies galore.

I gobbled up turkey and buttered potatoes,
Pickles and carrots, beans and tomatoes.

I felt myself swelling so plump and so round,
Till all of a sudden, I rose off the ground!

I crashed through the ceiling. Floating into the sky....
With a mouthful of pudding and a handful of pie,

But I managed to yell as I soared past the trees.

HAPPY EATING TO ALL!
PASS THE CRANBERRIES, PLEASE!

~ author unknown

grab the script here for the falling leaves
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