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South | North

Harvest Time

2015 has been the Year of the Used Book.  Really, I have just loved finding books this way.  The book I'm sharing today, Autumn Harvest, was published the year my dad was born.  I loved the look of the cover--illustrations are really important when it comes to picture books.  Reading reviews, people talked about the book being dated and the illustrations being simple.  Perfect.

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Even the endpapers are delightful.
And when it comes to Fall where we are,
it is quite possible to be dated and old fashioned without much effort.

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I loved this woman on the title page.

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The book begins with the singing of the katydids near the end of August.
Kadtydid . . . katydidn't . . . katydid . . . katydidn't.
The old timers say it's six weeks until the first frost.
I'll need to test that next year.

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Wheat is cut and threshed and stored.
Mice and other animals glean the leftovers.

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Squirrels and chipmunks begin to collect nuts, and the katydids keep on singing.
The book refers to "iron-shelled" hickory nuts.  Yes.
I know that several of you can relate.  I have lots of respect for squirrel jaws.

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The children enjoy the golden forests and crackling leaves coming home from school.
If my children went to school, they could walk there every day.

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The apple harvest begins.
That one ladder looks a bit precarious!

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The old farmer makes sure the barns are shut tight.
With the first hard frost, the katydids stop singing until the next year.

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And wood hauling begins.
The children have been hauling a fair amount of wood lately.
That, along with raking leaves, is very good for you.
If I could just get Mike to split wood . . .

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Halloween comes and the children run through the night being spooked.
The last leaves fall and the ground freezes.

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And it all ends with Thanksgiving at the family homeplace.
That will be our holiday this year, as we're all gathering in Georgia for a meal.
I bet Willow and Roan can set the table.

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( 1 tree — Plant a Forest )
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( 1 tree — Plant a Forest )

A Blessed Wilderness

It was just like being in heaven, being in there. In those days there was no road. The park was all a blessed wilderness. I have often thought what a wonderful people we would have been if we had wanted to keep it that way.

~Adolph Murie, biologist, on Denali


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