October, the first full month of autumn, is one of the most beautiful times of the year. The leaves change in October from their dark summer green to the beautiful reds and golds of fall. The air gets nippier and the wind a bit harsher as we all begin the slow process of hunkering down for the approaching winter.
And now the leaves are falling. I will eventually rake and mulch those that don't blow away of their own accord - and then work them into the process of creating new soil for the next growing season.
The last remnants of the gardens are harvested in October. Equipment is cleaned and put away in storage to await the spring, and many decorate their yards and patiently wait for the spooks to descend across the peaceful neighborhoods on Halloween.
Today's poem, "October," by the late American poet Robert Frost, is a tribute to the month of October. Mr. Frost covers his subject with simple grace, much like the actual frost does when it shimmers across a country landscape on a chilly October morning.
by Robert Frost