The golden rod is yellow
The corn is turning brown
The trees in apple orchards
With fruit are bending down.
Helen Hunt Jackson (1830 - 1885) was born in Amherst, Mass. She wrote poetry and several novels, and became an activist for Native Americans. Her most famous work was Ramona, a melodrama about an orphan who was half white, half Indian, and her full-blooded husband and their struggles to develop land of their own in California.
I do not live on a farm, and have no apple trees. But for some reason Jackson's poem always comes to mind when the leaves start to turn, as they were just beginning to do yesterday as I took a walk down the road . . .
They say the colors aren't going to be so great this year because of all the dry weather, but it looks like they're starting to come out.
Here's where the path opened onto a field.
I think this is poison ivy.
Around the bend was a pond.
And then, I don't know. A haunted house?
When I got home I wondered if I should pick the last of my tomatoes,
and saw that B had started to prepare for the fall holidays.
Look at this . . . she found apples somewhere and baked a pie!