When the Frost is on the Punkin
"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, fodder’s in the shock,
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."
Not having a silo on the farm of my youth corn was not chopped of ensilage. Rather corn was cut with a corn binder that cut and tied corn stalks in bundles. Then they were placed in shocks like little teepees to later be stacked in long piles next to the barn. It was called fodder and that's the poems refringence in line one "the fodder’s in the shock". This process occurred around early September also often the time of first frost.
Given the reality of climate change the first killing frost just recently occurred. There's a large catalpa tree in the yard next door to The Little House. All through October the tree maintained a full canopy of green leaves. Sunday night the temperature dropped to 25 degrees for several hours. Monday the tree shed all its leaves. This year it had none of the pods it usually produces.
The next night the temperature dropped to 21 degrees. These hard frosts made me think of Riley's poem.
Takk for alt,
Al
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