Mee Maw

My Mee Maw (my mother's mother) was Marion Ardella Biddix Hall (1927-2008). She used to recite a poem that she learned while in school and I loved to hear her! I woke up this morning to a slight chill in the air and the view of leaves in my North Carolina town beginning to turn a little and I thought of her. This is her reciting the poem...

Helen Hunt Jackson (1830-1885)
September

THE golden-rod is yellow; The corn is turning brown;
The trees in apple orchards With fruit are bending down.
The gentian's bluest fringes Are curling in the sun;
In dusty pods the milkweed Its hidden silk has spun.

The sedges flaunt their harvest, In every meadow nook;
And asters by the brook-side Make asters in the brook,
From dewy lanes at morning The grapes' sweet odors rise;
At noon the roads all flutter With yellow butterflies.

By all these lovely tokens September days are here,
With summer's best of weather, And autumn's best of cheer.
But none of all this beauty Which floods the earth and air
Is unto me the secret Which makes September fair.
'Tis a thing which I remember; To name it thrills me yet:
One day of one September I never can forget.