When The Frost is on the Pumpkin

Last night it went down to zero

blurry but nevertheless I finally got my photos to sync with my tablet so I have to share something.

Sort of looks frosty doesn't it?

well the frost will be

on the pumkin tonight.

That got me to thinking about the meaning of the frost is on the Pumpkin and I asked my Human Dictionary the French Gardener and he said he'd never heard of it. I had a different understanding of the term and didn't want to use it on my blog if it weren't appropriate, you know!.

So I went to my Visual Dictionary the Google and found this

Urban Dictionary for "The Frost is on the Pumpkin"
Time for making love. After the hard work of the harvest is done, and to relieve the pent-up tension of not being able to mate because of sweltering August weather (you know - sleeping on the porch, all the windows open, etc...). Also copulation at this time traditionally brought pregnancy to term after spring planting but well before the next year's harvest.

When the weather's hot and sticky there's no time for dunkin' dickie; when the frost is on the punkin that's the time for dickie dunkin'!

"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,

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 the time 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 blossoms 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 overhead!—

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 cellar-floor in red and yaller heaps;

And your cider-makin's over, and your wimmern-folks is through

With theyr mince and apple-butter, and theyr souse and sausage too!...

I don't know how to tell it—but ef such 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. 1853–1916

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The French Gardener, "Well I never heard of that"

I guess y'd need to be a ferm'r to know, I must have some ferm'r in me.

Happy Thanksgiving

Hope you are having pumpkin pie

Cindy

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