When the Frost is on the Punkin'

After checking the weather forecast before bed Saturday, I hastily ran outside to cover my favorite tomato plants with a couple of sheets, hoping to keep them around a few more weeks. Not much else is left in my worn-out garden except for a fall crop of lettuce which should just get sweeter with the colder temps.

Even though there aren't any pumpkins in my garden, last night's frost made me think of "When the Frost is on the Punkin'" by the master Hoosier poet, James Whitcomb Riley. Some time ago my friend Heather pointed me to this marvelous recitation of this poem by Kent Risely. He really nails the Hoosier dialect that Riley so expertly captures. Enjoy!