The Barn by Ralph Hagen for October 26, 2023

I’m surprised there isn’t a layer of powdered snow covering it.

So did that stuff in his trough.

slopsicles

Had to scrape the ice off the car windows Tuesday morning. Going up to 20C today.

When the Frost is on the PunkinBY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEYWhen the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s 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 tiptoes 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 atmusfereWhen the heat of 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 air’s so appetizin’; and the landscape through the hazeOf a crisp and sunny morning of the airly autumn daysIs 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 stillA-preachin’ sermuns 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 keepsIs poured around the celler-floor in red and yeller heaps;And your cider-makin’ ’s over, and your wimmern-folks is throughWith their mince and apple-butter, and theyr souse and saussage, too! …I don’t know how to tell it—but ef sich a thing could beAs 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 s

Now icy what he’s tryin’ to do.

You might wanna use an ice pick, ice pig.

Slop: Sliced and Diced, get it on a stick!

Frost…it’s a comin!

Good thing Jimbo has the tools to free his food…er slop!

Snow showers predicted here soon….☹️

Popsicle Pig!

Cleveland,Ohio They’re predicting 78 F tomorrow, a possible record high.

Frozen dinner.