The Little Jack-o-Lantern



Next to carving pumpkins, I love collecting ceramic Jack-o-Lanterns. This was the first Jack, we’ve got for the frontyard.

I’m a little pumpkin
Round and stout,
Packed with full of seeds
That you can scoop out!
When I get all carved up,
Then I will be
The cutest Jack-o-Lantern
You ever will see!

Author: Unknown


The Pumpkin Princess ~ A Garden Fairy Tale



Sara loves all the pumpkins at the Pumpkin Patch (2010)

Once upon a pumpkin vine,
There grew a flower, fair and fine.
One day, a sprite danced by and brushed
Her petals with a golden dust.
And magically, that flower fine
Became a pumpkin on that vine.

Now perhaps that fairy was a bee
And pollen dust fell from its knee.
Then pollination, not some spell’s power,
grew a fruit from that fair flower.
Still … her beauty had no match
She was the princess of the pumpkin patch!

Resource: Scholastic TeachablesΒ  – “The Pumpkin Princess (Science Poem)


A Sweet Autumn Poem

Fall Friends

A farmer made a scarecrow
to frighten crows away.
And the scarecrow got so lonely
standing in that field all day,
he called a crow down from the blue sky
Please sit with me a while.
The crow said, I’m to scared of you.
The straw man gave a smile.
I’ve stood here in this cornfield.
For all my life, I’ve stood.
I’ve guarded corn from crows like you
just like a scarecrow should.
But as I stand, I watch you fly
and wonder what you see.
What is ist like to float through air?
Please sit and talk with me.
The crow sat on a pumpkin
and looked in Scarecrow’s face.
I’ve flown our whole world over,
but this is a special place.
From way up high I watch you
as your cornstalks sway and wave.
I’ve wanted so to meet you
for you look so wise and brave.
They chatted through the afternoon
sharing secrets of both sky and land.
And when old sun began to sink,
Crow flew to Scarecrow’s mitten hand.
I must fly now, but I’ll be back
to sing you songs from up above.
This tale is true. We must believe
in magic and unlikely love.
Author: Amy Ludwig VanDerwater


Autumn Is On Its Way


In the perfect conditions, we have mushrooms growing in Texas.


A season of falling leaves
And hibernation trees
Of gathering and hoarding
Of frosty, sparkling, misty morning.

A season for crunching and munching
For chestnut roasting
And crumpet toasting
For bonfire flames dancing
In the midnight air.

A season for listening
To racing winds whistling
Through sleepy undressed branches
And for children chasing the host
Of whistling, twirling fallen leaves.

Author: unknown