Members of our message board were given a list of words and phrases from which they were to write to. They were to write with a fall theme in mind and could choose either one word or the entire list of words.

red and gold

harvest baskets

a chill in the air

a trickle of water

designed by frost

lacy edges on the creekbank




I can see the glow of Autumn,
With colours, bronze and gold.
And Autumn is September,
So the year is getting old.

The seeds are sown and scattered,
And need sunshine and the rain.
The farmers work so very hard,
Hope it is not in vain.

All through the changing seasons,
The wind and rains do blow.
The workers are keeping busy,
Because ,what they reap, they sow.

As people start rejoicing,
The church sing special hymns.
The farmer is so happy,
When his harvest is gathered in.

By Doreen Hampshire (




Takes more than a trickle of water
To make things in the desert grow
Rainfall is nil and things are arid
Under all the hot sunshine glow

Yet the mornings here are cooling
And fig leaves are starting to fall
And while they gather in large groups
You can hear many a quail call

Peter Rabbit likes cooling weather
His fur coat protects from the chill
Groundsquirrels gathering winter food
So they will have enought to fill

By Sharon (




When I was young, all the neighborhood kids would go to Way's Woods where there was an old abandoned lumber camp right along side Thread Creek. Someone would bring a big skillet, someone else a jar of bacon grease, others would bring potatoes and corn, butter, salt and pepper and flour. We would spend the day down there with the boys out gigging frogs and bringing them back to the girls (the firebuilders and chefs). The legs of the frogs were cooked in the skillet with the potatoes and corn being cooked in the fire, and we would have a feast. Guess the French didn't have a monopoly on frog legs. We never ran out of wood and wood chips because when the lumber camp moved on they left lots of wood. But I remember going down there to the hill in the winter with my sled and I would walk alongside the creek. It was fast flowing so it never seemed to freeze, but there was always a lacy edge on the creekbank. I always thought it was so pretty, as if touched by a fairy wand to make all those delicate patterns. Now tho, the trees along the water are red and gold, there is a chill in the air, and early in the mornings, the leaves are outlined and designed in frost. The old lumber camp has disappeared under years of new growth, but the one thing it can't cover up is the memories I have of those "froggy picnics" we used to have there.

By susi (




Lacy edges on the creek bank,
Little boy jeans are dry,
The chill in the air saddens little faces,
A play-filled summer gone by.

There may be a snow for a garbage lid sled,
But January’s a long time away,
They’ll be revved up for Christmas,
After their passing malaise.

Behind a trickle of water on the windows,
There are papers of red and gold,
Children cut out paper feathers,
Of leaves teaching beauty in growing old.

They sing little songs about pilgrims,
Though they haven’t a single clue,
Of how warm with unearned privilege,
From pioneers that forged them through.

Cornucopias of harvest baskets,
Receive paper leaves, paper pumpkins and little gourds,
Proud little boys will eat turkey and stuffing,
Receiving kudos and hugs and laughter roars.

One day, too soon, jeans will wade again,
In search of neighborhood fishes,
And birds will sing over growing limbs,
While little boys dream making grownup wishes.

By Norma (




Lacy edges on the creek bank
small blooms on the soft green moss
end of summer flowers
grandma called them

Up on the hill a unique sight
designed by frost
a varied patch of wild flowers
their beauty partially dashed by the cold

Trickle of water slowly gathering
from the frosty leaves
minute streamlet slowly
inching toward the creek

Up on the knob
a chill in the air
that sense of fall
cool nights and nice warm the days

Harvest baskets line the driveway
apple orchard sales
so many nice large red apples
place in sawdust, save for the winter

Brilliant red and gold show off
the large copse of red oaks
bright and many hues of yellow
dominate below

A collage of fall I beheld
the beauty seen by me
an annual affair
the marvels of mother nature

By Tom (




Red and Gold leaves trimmed the edges of the beautiful harvest basket of fruit . It was to be used at the annual harvest festival later that day. Overnight a chill in the air had produced a trickle of water which turned into an icicle designed by frost . these formed the lacy edges on the creekbank where the folks had stored the apples to keep them cold for the bobbin of apples contest at the festival. The ladies were busy preparing hams,potato salads,corn on the cob and home made apple butter with huge slabs of homemade bread. The table was set with red and gold checkard tablecloth . The ladies set the basket in the center of the table and stepped back to admire their handiwork. In the kitchen other ladies were baking homemade pumpkin pies, apple pies and red velvet cakes. The children were helping with setting the table with fall patterned dishes .

Everyone was anticipating this festival .Their would be games of bobbin for apples sack races and the men would pitch horseshoes and quoits. all would have a wonderful time.

By Amy (


An Idle Walk

A September Song

Happy Birthday Mother

The Senses of September

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