Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1924-10-15
Wisconsin in October.

Who shall sing this song and who
shall chant the lay of beauties OF
Wisconsin in October? Adler pens
than ours could tell the story better.
The dreamy haze of Indian summer
lies over the hills, so near, so far
away. The cornfields are stacked
with fodder tepees and they too remind
one of Indian summer. Gnats fill the
air. Walnut trees have lost thelr
leaves but show their burden OF rlpen-
ing nuts.
The air is warm and slightly ener-
waiting. One likes to find a south Mill
side at mid-afternoon and there lie
prone. In the foreground is the valley
filled with trees. These carry many
colors, bright yellow and broWnlsn-
purple predominating The leaves are
falling fast
Along the fence rows of wild grapes
are ripening. Some pick them-a rite
as old as our race. And late that day
they crush the berries and bring forth
the dark juice-another ancient rite.
Winemaking, a household art from
the days of simplicity when people
made their simple beverages and
thought the activity not wrong but
happy, cheerful and human. Our lives
are so short span. :.
We buzz along and flush quail from
the roadside. There are dozens OF
them and all quite tame. We reach
them very close when they fly. Quail
have been protected for years not only
by law but by public sentiment-they
are increasing.
A squirrel, a graceful gray and
black fellow, runs across the road
carving a nut. He makes for his
nest in a distant tree. He and his
tribe are plentiful also. Today his
protection from the hunter ceases.
SQUIRRELS are toothsome eating now
and many will go into the stew pot
and roasting pan.
Along the roadside the fall flow
ers droop their graceful heads. The
frost has not hurt them, From the
woods come the voices of nutplckers.
Someone climbs tree and the nuts
fall in shower. Huge piles are made.
The pickers hurry to gather before
the farmer comes.
Down in the valley Platte winds
against wall of rock. Graceful trees
grow there. White birch with it's
bayonet of green leaf and bough. Mas
sive pine and sturdy oak are there al
so. Ash, linden, oak, hickory wal
nut. pine and birch-these are the
blessed Wisconsin trees. God made
them to serve man in a material way
and to fill his soul with satisfaction
when he beholds them on the sky line.
The pine tells the story of farthest
south this tree of the northland grows
in it's natural state. Only a master
builder could create beautiful pine.
The hardwoods, trees of a more
| temperate cline, have marched north
to meet the pine. The two zones
meet here in Wisconsin.
Dusk falls early with a. chill in the
air. You drive home. Sleek cattle
raise inquiring heads at you from the
green pastures. On the crest of the
hill we see the smoke rising straight
up from the farm chimney below-in-
dicative of fall this is. The sun sets
and the stars and moon throw their
radiance. The winding road becomes
a silver ribbon of stone. The stacked
corn looks still more like Indian te-
PEGS. The full-grown cottontails, now
ripe for shooting, Scamper across the
road
Into the house with the harvest
Vegetables, the gift of a generous far
mer. Nuts by the bagful. Wild and
tame grapes. A day in the open has
not been in vain
This is the cycle of the harvest.
The quail Pushes from the thicket
but the songbird is gone. A stray
robin perches on a telephone pole and
the jayb1rd's coat of blue flashes from
the distant tree. Indian summer is
with us, waxing and waning. Soon
winter comes. Then spring. So runs
the cycle of life until we are gone.
% Years Ago
And Today.