Read by Matilda Longbottom

“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.”

Mrs. Hannan, our beloved fourth-grade teacher, must’ve realized we were exhausted from reciting “O Captain, My Captain” and trying to remember every detail of Paul Revere’s midnight dash. One crisp Fall day, she switched it up by teaching us George Cooper’s delightful poem, “October Gave a Party,” and—get this—she even set it to a melody we actually loved! Sixty-three years later, most of my classmates (and I) still remember the tune. We sang it to our kids, grandkids, and now, as a teacher myself, I sing it to my students. Cooper’s magical Autumn party has stuck with us all these years.

Ah, leaves. If you live on the East Coast, you know that Fall isn’t just a season—it’s an event. Every year, we get an influx of “leaf peepers” who fill up New England hotels and block every scenic road with their slow-driving caravans. Leaves are so precious to these folks that some even gather them into envelopes and mail them to relatives, so they too can experience the crisp smell and vibrant colors. Meanwhile, kids see leaves and think, “Jumping material!” They hurl themselves into massive piles, right before their parents bag them up for curbside pickup. As for my husband, Mike? He lets the leaves stay where they fall, and honestly, I don’t mind. Our yard ends up looking like a beautiful stained-glass puzzle of golds, reds, and oranges. And hey, it’s good for the soil, right?

Speaking of leaves, did you know they’re garden gold? Forget bagging them up—just run over them with a lawnmower, and voilà, instant mulch. They help keep the soil in place and can be added to compost piles for that extra nutrient boost. Leaf “mold,” as the experts call it, works wonders in potting soil, and if you’re still not convinced, there are countless YouTube tutorials out there on how to make the most of your leafy treasures.

I sometimes miss the old Philly days when burning leaves was legal. That Autumn smell, rising in the crisp air, mingling with the scent of apple barrels and pumpkin fields—it felt like the very essence of Fall. I remember one Autumn in particular when I brought my Aunt Aggie a pumpkin. As the creative soul she was, she gave me a playful nudge and said, “This needs some leaves!” So, there I went, running to the parking lot, gathering the prettiest ones I could find to complete her Fall tableau.

Now, I’ll admit, tree identification is not my strong suit. I can only recognize one tree: the tulip poplar. Its leaves look like the tulip-shaped flowers that bloom in Spring, and I love that little connection. If you read further in “October Gave a Party,” you’ll notice that Cooper names the trees and colors as if they’re characters at the party. Leaves may be the most undervalued part of a tree, but to me, they’re nature’s grand finale. Each Fall, they create a dazzling cathedral of color, a final bow before Winter sweeps in with its monochromatic palette.

So, here’s to the leaves—whether you’re raking them, jumping in them, or just admiring them from your window. They’re a celebration of all that’s glorious about Fall, and October’s party wouldn’t be the same without them. ❖

About the Author: Hannah Dougherty Campbell, a spirited wordsmith with a heart as lush as her garden, hails from the suburbs of Philadelphia. Inspired by the beauty of nature and the resilience of the human spirit, Hannah found solace and creativity in crafting heartfelt poetry. With a background in teaching and a passion for nurturing creativity, she imparts her wisdom through her creative writing classes, where she encourages others to explore the depths of their souls through the written word. Her cherished tradition of assigning flowers to personalities has blossomed into a family heirloom, enriching the lives of her loved ones and students alike. Through her work, she reminds us all of the delicate dance between nature and humanity, where every petal tells a story and every soul blooms in its own unique way.