“O suns and skies and clouds of June, And flowers of June together; Ye cannot rival for one hour, October’s bright blue weather….
When loud the bumblebee makes haste, Belated, thriftless vagrant; And goldenrod is dying fast, And lanes with grapes are fragrant…
When gentians roll their fingers tight, To save them for the morning; And chestnuts fall from satin burrs, Without a sound of warning….
When on the ground red apples lie, In piles like jewels shining; And redder still on old stone walls, Are leaves of woodbine twining….
When all the lovely wayside things, Their white-winged seeds are sowing; And in the fields still green and fair, Late aftermaths are growing….
When springs run low, and on the brooks, In idle golden freighting; Bright leaves sink noiseless in the hush, Of woods, for winter waiting….
When comrades seek sweet country haunts, By twos and twos together; And count like misers, hour by hour, October’s bright blue weather….
O sun and skies and flowers of June, Count all your boasts together; Love loveth best of all the year, October’s bright blue weather.” -Helen Hunt Jackson
I remember memorizing this poem when I was in elementary school, and it comes back to me every October. It is my favorite month of the year, and every time the weather gets cooler and the leaves change colors, I think of this beautiful poem. Even though we are already in the second week of November, here in Colorado we are still being blessed with the last remaining days of October’s bright blue weather.
I only recently learned about the life of the author, and how difficult it was; full of loss, heartache and illness. Yet she managed to overcome her challenges and become a prolific and inspirational writer. I have been to Seven Falls in Colorado Springs, and I have climbed the 224 steps up the mountain to Inspiration Point, the place where her husband arranged as her final resting place. The climb was absolutely brutal, and I swore I would never do it again.
However, after reading her story I have decided to go back and climb those stairs again to pay tribute to the remarkable woman who wrote the poem which so eloquently and beautifully expresses what I feel every October. But I think I’ll wait until the fall, and do it under the cover of the brilliant gold of the aspen trees and the skies of October’s bright blue weather. It just seems like the right thing to do, don’t you agree?