Frost

I was shocked, shocked I say, when I opened the front door to let the dogs out this morning and saw a blanket of frost covering the grass. I didn't think it was going to get that cold. I guess fall is really here. You can tell when summer is over where I live because the farmers scurry around in their tractors and combines harvesting their corn and soybeans, but sometimes even after all the fields are bare and stubbly it still feels like summer. Right up until it feels like winter. In honor of the frost, I thought I would blog my husband's favorite poem.

Frost on the Pumpkin

When it's all hot and sticky
It's no time for dunkin' dickey,

But when the frost is on the pumpkin
It's time for dickey dunkin'.


Not exactly Shakespear, but hey, at least it rhymes.