I can’t help but look at the September country side in the Finger Lakes without recalling the following verse of a poem titled September:
SEPTEMBER
The golden-rod is yellow;
The corn is turning brown;
The trees in apple orchards
With fruit are bending down.
My mother taught me the words of the first verse of this poem a long long time ago, but I never knew the author until I just recently looked it up: The poem is by Helen Hunt Jackson (1830-1885). And there are many more beautiful verses;
The gentian’s bluest fringes
Are curling in the sun;
In dusty pods the milkweed
Its hidden silk has spun.
You can read the rest of her lovely SEPTEMBER poem (click here). It amazes me as to how much data that we have stored in the file cabinets of our minds. And even more amazing, is that there is so much more to be uncovered, if only we do a little searching.
James R. Bupp
