This is the time of year
That makes us know
Winter is near,
There'll soon be snow.

I have watched the leaves,
Fade from lemon to rust.
Mother Nature, she believes
Winter is coming as it must.

Think I wish I was a bear.
And I was being bold
To go looking for a lair
To sleep away the winter's cold.

By Swampetta (

As a child in the city, I vividly remember crunching through the fallen leaves that collected at the curb as I walked home from school. Yes, some streets in Brooklyn actually had trees. Mine didn't, but nearby streets did, and it was always fun to shuffle through them and hear the crackling sound they made.

I'm not sure, but I think this was the season that grandpa made wine in the basement. The entire street reeked of fermented grapes, as many of the Italian-born homeowners stomped through the grapes and set up their individual wineries.

This was the season when mama made me wear hats. She crocheted many of them. I vividly recall a maroon hat with a fur pom-pom at the top. This was also the time of year when the dreaded "leggings" came out of the closet. All winter coats came with matching leggings. I detested them. Under the leggings I wore long cotton stockings, held up with garters on a garter belt. These days my grandchildren walk around in sandals and shorts all year, even through the ice and snow. My mother would be horrified.

Since aunts, uncles and cousins from both sides of the family lived in the neighborhood, there were many family gatherings every Sunday. For special occasions, mama would take me to the "chicken market" where we would pick out a live chicken and watch as it was killed and de-feathered. It would still be warm when we took it home. Yuck. I hated that place.

November was the month when boys filled a stocking with chalk dust and swung it around as the girls screamed and scrambled to get away. I often came home with my coat covered with chalk marks and mama would have to shake it out and hang it on the clothesline that ran from the kitchen window to the clothespole in the backyard. The clothesline would be wrapped around a pulley gadget so you could hang clothes at the kitchen window and push them out as far as the pole. On washdays, the entire line would be filled. Mama always got upset when the family upstairs hung wet clothes that dripped down on her nearly-dried laundry.

This was also the time of year I usually came down with a strep throat or bronchitis. I recall my chest being rubbed with Vicks, after which a hot cloth was applied. The family doctor was kept very busy in November making house calls.

By Frannie (

A lover of sun am I
Don't like rain in the sky,
Keep away all cold,
Or into a ball I'll fold.

Love all the trappings of fall,
The colors, the atmosphere, all
If it just could be comfortably warm,
It would do me no major harm.

I'm not myself in the winter,
Painful like getting a splinter,
Too many bad memories,
Of friends of past dreameries.

Give me the spring and the summer,
Winter's mostly a bummer,
But the colors of fall I'll sure take,
And the pies and turkeys folks bake.

By Norma (

A rose is a rose is a rose my friend
Many colors and many a trend
The one of lilac is a climbing rose
All give a scent to be smelled by nose

The red one is not a true red at all
Between pink and orange it is so tall
A humming bird flits from one to other
On the jubilee sits his brother

Up the trelllis runs bouganvilla vine
Its flowers painted like good red wine
Lantana spreads and creeps along the ground
Drawing butterflies from all around

Sweet tangerines droop from my neighbor's tree
urging someone to eat might be me
But a rose is a rose is a rose friend
Many colors and scents are the trend

Winds are blowing leaves come tumbling this way
Fall in the desert wondrous this day
A few scattered clouds waft in a blue sky
And birds soaring there ever so high

A rose is a rose is a rose my friend
Many colors and many a trend
This desert city is so flower filled
A dove I see perched on window sill

By Sharon (






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The Blue Bowl

Slip Sliding Away

Shorter Days ( A slideshow )

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