Victoria MN Newspaper-From the Editor

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“Trees Are Our Roots”

8099 Bavaria Rd * Victoria * 952-443-2990

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October gave a party;

The leaves by hundreds came --

The Chestnuts, Oaks, and Maples,

And leaves of every name.

The Sunshine spread a carpet,

And everything was grand,

Miss Weather led the dancing,

Professor Wind the band.

The Chestnuts came in yellow,

The Oaks in crimson dressed;

The lovely Misses Maple

In scarlet looked their best;

All gaily fluttered by;

The sight was like a rainbow

New fallen from the sky.

Then, in the rustic hollow,

At hide and seek they played,

The party closed at sundown,

And everybody stayed.

Professor Wind played louder;

They flew along the ground;

And then the party ended

In jolly "hands around."

~George Cooper, 1840-1927

There are most likely also poems about a winter party, a spring party, and a summer party, but none of those parties would be so colorful as the party thrown by October. Besides, only fall brings poetry to the fore for me.

When snow sprinkles into our world, I think white. When May grows our world, I think green. When July touches our world, I think hot. When October invites us, we here in Victoria experience a vibrancy of color rivaling that of the North Shore or even the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.

I think that I shall never see

A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest

Against the sweet earth's

flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day,

And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in summer wear

A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;

Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,

But only God can make a tree.

~Joyce Kilmer, 1886-1918.

The maples in our yard today, October 5th, are still 99% green, and so I am writing with anticipation. It's the coolness in the air that strikes me to the bone and tells me to put on my slippers and fleece jacket and keep looking up for the spots of color. I've been here before, many times, and I never tire of October's party.

Go, sit upon the lofty hill,

And turn your eyes around,

Where waving woods

and waters wild

Do hymn an autumn sound.

The summer sun is faint on them --

The summer flowers depart --

Sit still, as all transform'd to stone,

Except your musing heart

~Elizabeth Barrett Browning, 1806-1861

When we first moved to Victoria, I was amazed by the brilliant and beautiful colors of sumac and maple trees. Back home in southwestern MN, the good black soil mainly grows corn and beans and wheat.

Joyce Kilmer wrote that only God can make a tree --

I wholeheartedly agree.

Leaves with various Hues of green,

Like crown jewels Of a stately queen.

Birds and bees Make homes in branches;

Ants use trunks, For little ant ranches.

When fall brings The killing frost,

The green of leaves Is quickly lost.

Replaced by oranges, Reds, and gold --

Mister Tree, you're A sight to behold!

Soon bitter north winds Will strip your limbs bare.

You stand unconcerned; You don't seem to care.