Punkins
I spent my formative years growing up in Indiana, where we were exposed to professional readings of poems by our native poet, James Whitcomb Riley (1849-1916). I loved poetry where everything was formal, structured and rhymed. But, this was marvelous poetry, done in dialect. My favorite was written in 1885, “Little Orphan Annie”, which was later turned in to a comic strip by others.
The poem that caught Indiana’s heart, though, and the admirers saved his job as poet with “The Indianapolis Journal”, was, “When The Frost Is On The Punkin.” He wrote under the name of Benjamin F. Johnson of Boone, supposedly an old farmer. It best described the heart of the Hoosiers toward their fall season. He was called, “The Hoosier Poet.” I cannot go into the fall season without thinking of this poem.
When the Frost is On the Punkin
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodders in the shock,
And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin turkey-cock,
And the clackin’ of the guineys, and the cluckin’ of the hens,
And the rooster’s hallylooyer as he toptoes on the fence;
O, it’s then’s the times a feller is a-feelin’ at his best,
With the risin’ sun to greet him from a night of peaceful rest,
As he leaves the house, bareheaded, and goes out to feed the stock,
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock.
They’s something kindo’ harty-like about the atmusfere
When the summer’s over and the coolin’ fall is here-
Of course we miss the flowers, and the blossums on the trees,
And the mumble of the hummin’-birds and buzzin of the bees;
But the airs so appetizin’; and the landscape through the haze
Of a crisp and sunny morning of the airly autumn days
Is a pictur’ that no painter has the colorin’ to mock-
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock.
The husky, rusty russel of the tossels of the corn,
And the raspin’ of the tangled leaves, as golden as the morn;
The stubble in the furries-kindo’ lonesome-like, but still
A -preachin’ sermons to us of the barns they growed to fill;
The strawstack in the medder, and the reaper in the shed;
The hosses in theyr stalls below-the clover over-head!-
O, it sets my hart a-clickin’ like the tickin’ of a clock,
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock!
Then your apples all is gethered, and the ones a feller keeps
Is poured around the cellar-floor in red and yeller heaps;
And your cider-makin’ ‘s over and your wimmern-folks is through
With their mince and apple-butter, and theyr souse and sausage, too!..
I don’t know how to tell it but ef sich a thing could be
As the angels wantin’ boardin’, and they’d call around on me-
I’d want to ‘commodate ’em-all the whole indurin’ flock-
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock!
This is probably his imitation of a hayseed farmer, and I’m sure you’ll need no translation for this, but it struck a note with hoosiers in describing their fall season for many years, and it is my favorite season.
Pumpkins are cucurbitas, as are gourds, squash and cucumbers. All of which we are enjoying about now. A pumpkin is a squash. It takes 75 to 100 days of frost-free weather to produce a pumpkin, and a good hunk of your yard. They are susceptible to nematodes. The Pilgrims were very grateful for pumpkins helping them survive their first winter here; and, as the Indians taught them, grown between their corn and beans. The only continent that pumpkins can not grow on is the Antarctic. Morton, Illinois is the self-proclaimed pumpkin capital of the world because it’s the home of Libby’s pumpkin industry, where they can the pumpkin the same day it’s harvested. Pumpkin flowers can be battered and fried; its seeds baked, salted and eaten; and they can be made into pies, soups and breads, as well as the pumpkin fudge I enjoyed eating today. They contain potassium and Vitamin A and B, and are 90 percent water. One cup of puree contains zero cholesterol. Pumpkins mean fall to all of us.
Welcome to this Hoosier’s fall!
Joyce Comingore, Master Gardener; Board Member of the American Hibiscus Society and past-President of the James E Hendry Chapter; member of the Garden Club of Cape Coral.