The grocery stores know it and take full advantage by helpfully providing me with ...
Pumpkin Cookie Mix -- check
Pumpkin Bread -- check
Pumpkin Spice Coffee--- check--- oh, I forgot the Pumpkin Spice Creamer..next trip for sure!
Pumpkin Spice Sweet Roll--- check and into the freezer for that special occasion.
I resisted the Pumpkin Cupcake Mix, (but confess I did copy the recipe from FB that calls for a yellow cake mix and can of pumpkin and the check out lady said to use a spice cake mix instead of yellow but kindly offered that she had tried to find it in the store where she worked and I was shopping and they were all out! Woe!)
Marketing is such a wonderful convention! Did you know that this year there are....
Pumpkin Spice Flavored Hershey's Kisses?
Yep, (and FYI they also have Hershey's Candy Corn Cream Bar---but that's another subject).
And not to forget pumpkin porch decorations --- check---both traditional orange and retro white.
Yes, it's Punkin' Time again in the South and I'm ready. Are you?
Fall Farm pictures taken at:Johnson Farms Fall Farm Stand
Corner of Hwy. 210 S and Old Stage Road
(just east of Angier, NC)
Mums, Pumpkins & Crafts
Thanks, Mary & Brian
A Tribute to James Whitcomb Riley
1849–1916
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’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!