Spearfish Canyon is one of South Dakota’s prime destinations to view fall foliage. John Mitchell drove through the canyon as September turned to October and was greeted with eye-popping yellows, oranges and reds.
The autumn of 2020 across South Dakota has come and nearly gone already, at least in terms of fall color. For the past several years I’ve made it a point to get out into the great wide open, seeking the last burst of color before the muted tones of winter settle in. This year, much of the state has been extremely dry since mid-summer or even earlier. Typically, that means autumn color starts painting the leaves in the river valley hills and coulees a few days earlier than usual. The good news is that fall colors are often more vibrant in dryer years. One just has to hope that the inevitable northwest wind doesn’t tear the leaves from the trees before we get a chance to admire the beauty.
As I’ve captured fall photos from Harding County to Minnehaha County (and many points in between), I’ve had a new song stuck in my head. Actually, it isn’t really a new song at all, just new to me. First composed in 1945 by Joseph Kosma with original lyrics by Jacques PrÈvert in French, and later by Johnny Mercer in English the jazz standard”Autumn Leaves” has been around a while and recorded many times over the years.
I first heard the song when listening to Sparse, an EP by South Dakota musicians Jami Lynn and Andrew Reinartz. I’d be a liar if I told you I know much about jazz, but this mini collection of original tunes and covers may be taking me one or two steps closer to becoming a fan. Jami and Andrew’s cover of”Autumn Leaves” is probably my favorite song on the EP. If not for them, I wouldn’t even know this gem of a song existed, nor would I have become acquainted with the near perfect lyrics to go with my collection of autumn photos for this year:
The falling leaves drift by my window
The falling leaves of red and gold
I see your lips the summer kisses
The sunburned hands I used to hold
Since you went away the days grow long
And soon I’ll hear old winter’s song
But I miss you most of all my darling
When autumn leaves start to fall
Since you went away the days grow long
And soon I’ll hear old winter’s song
But I miss you most of all my darling
When autumn leaves start to fall
I miss you most of all my darling
When autumn leaves start to fall
Christian Begeman grew up in Isabel and now lives in Sioux Falls. When he’s not working at Midco he is often on the road photographing South Dakota’s prettiest spots. Follow Begeman on his blog.
The fall of 2019 was moody and somewhat mysterious. It arrived late and left early. The abundant rains of this year’s warmer months kept the landscape green long into October. When the leaves finally decided to give in to the season’s turning, the winds that ripped them from their branches weren’t far behind. An old photography adage says that bad weather makes for good photographs, so even though autumn barely touched down this time around, there were still good opportunities for photos.
Around the first of October, I was in the western portion of our great state. In Custer State Park, prairie coneflowers were still in bloom and there was plenty of lush, green grass. But up in the high country, the wet weather hovered between cold rain and freezing mist. This made for extraordinary macro visions of colored leaves holding hands with newly forming ice droplets.
A few days later, I ventured into the rugged country of Harding County only to see that the Slim Buttes had a cloak of snow at the base of its annual autumn splendor. A little further south at Castle Butte, I caught an interesting vision of hay bales smoking in the early morning sun. At least that’s what it looked like. What was really happening was that the warm sun was striking the snow directly, and instead of melting, the water in the snow went right into the gas stage, vaporizing into the morning air.
The following week, the early snow seemed to follow me back across the state. The foliage had begun to blush by then, and with the thick snowflakes the scene at the Outdoor Campus in Sioux Falls soon resembled an impressionistic masterpiece.
The Big Sioux River was in flood stage for most of this year. Oddly enough, because of this I found my greatest visions of fall beauty all year. At the Big Sioux Recreation Area near Brandon, the forested flats near the riverbanks have walking paths and a disc golf course. Unfortunately, the majority of this area was under water all year. By the time fall colors peaked along the riverside, the waters had receded into the banks but left behind mud flats and still pools of water. This phenomenon presented a unique way to enjoy the fall beauty, as mirror-like pools essentially doubled the fall color. It was quite an enchanting scene, even though I nearly ruined a pair of hiking shoes with mud and water on three different trips to try to capture this new-found beauty. Although I could see the loveliness of the season through the mess, there is still quite a mess to clean up before that area of the park returns to normal. It reminded me of all the other resulting troubles our state has endured in 2019.
So, like the season itself, the scenes I captured are a bit bittersweet. Yes, they are beautiful, but the beauty came at a cost. Likewise, autumn in its fleeting beauty means the hardships of winter on the high plains is nigh. It is a cost we must pay every year. Even so, I can’t help but love fall in this part of the world. I just hope it sticks around a bit longer next year.
Christian Begeman grew up in Isabel and now lives in Sioux Falls. When he’s not working at Midco he is often on the road photographing South Dakota’s prettiest spots. Follow Begeman on his blog.
Most autumns, it’s not easy for boaters and photographers to explore the mouth of the James River because of low water levels. This year, however, the river has been at record-high levels, so South Dakota Magazine dispatched a pontoon boat. Here’s some of what we found.
I spent much of yesterday picking the last of the peppers, digging carrots, pulling beets and cutting fragrant bouquets of herbs in preparation for forecasted snow. My social media feed was full of other gardeners frantically salvaging their last harvests. Tomatoes, zucchini, beans and squash were all piled into buckets and boxes ahead of South Dakota’s first winter weather.
We hoped the meteorologists were wrong. We wished that the cold would stay away and not end our growing season. Those hopes and wishes were dashed when we awoke this morning to much of the western part of South Dakota covered in at least some snow. At my house, we had a 4 a.m. thunderstorm with rolling, freight train thunder that dumped hail and sleet and made the ground white, followed by more drizzly rain, and a light skiff of snow. My garden is done.
Snow in October does encourage baking. I am going to take the last of those summer zucchinis and my garden-fresh carrots and bake some veggie loaded muffins. When I baked these Carrot Zucchini Muffins last month, Hubs declared them to be delicious as his favorite carrot cake. I am glad to be able to still enjoy the bounty of my now frozen garden with some baking to warm up a cold day.
 |
| Warm carrot zucchini muffins are a good remedy for the early winter blues. |
1 cup flour
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ginger
1/8 teaspoon nutmeg
1/8 teaspoon cloves
1/4 cup sugar
1/4 cup packed light brown sugar
3 tablespoons vegetable oil
3 tablespoons unsweetened applesauce
1 large egg
3/4 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 cup finely shredded carrots
1/2 cup unpeeled finely shredded zucchini
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Line a muffin pan with 6 paper muffin cups.
Beat together granulated sugar and brown sugar, canola oil, applesauce, eggs and vanilla.
Stir in flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg and cloves.
Add carrots and zucchini to flour mixture, folding batter until just combined.
Divide batter among prepared muffin cups filling each cup nearly full.
Bake in preheated oven until toothpick inserted into center comes out clean, about 20-24 minutes.
Cool in muffin pan several minutes then transfer to a wire rack to cool completely. Store muffins in an airtight container. (Yield: 6 muffins)
Fran Hill has been blogging about food at On My Plate since October of 2006. She, her husband and their three dogs ranch near Colome.
The fall colors have peaked through Spearfish Canyon, and more than a foot of snow is predicted in some parts of the Black Hills Wednesday through Friday. Christian Begeman toured the Hills last weekend, and found cool and rainy days preceding our first winter blast.
 |
| Ride along the Herman & Milwaukee Railroad in Madison’s Prairie Village and then find your favorite pumpkin. Photo by Historic Prairie Village. |
Autumn in South Dakota is magical for me. Our state comes alive with gatherings that bring out the best we have to offer — unique foods and events (see”Dinner with a Ghost” below) and community spirit.
Apple pickings, pumpkin carvings, barn dances, Oktoberfest feasts, scarecrow contests and lots of other parties are always planned. Each and every one takes a lot of work. I know that firsthand, because our 4-H club in Yankton County once organized a haunted house as a fundraiser.
We labored for weeks on super-sized spider webs, barnwood coffins, graveyard stones and a witch’s brew of body parts made with spaghetti, Jell-O and other gooey stuff from the refrigerator. Jason chased people with his chain saw; every time he started the engine the dads double-checked it to be sure there was no chain. Young children performed as spooks –a creepy bonus we hadn’t anticipated.
Hard work is weirdly part of the fun with South Dakota events, especially when cool weather curtails our outdoor entertainment.
We feature favorite events in every issue of the magazine and our September/October calendar is always one of the fullest, so check it out. Here is just a sampling of this year’s autumn calendar.
Let us know if you attend these events — we would love to see any photos you post on social media. Use #sodakmag so we can find them.
A cold and steady rain pelts the north windows as I write this month’s column. It reminds me of my first day out chasing fall colors in northwest South Dakota just two weeks ago. Autumn color comes to the high country earlier than the valleys and towns of southeastern South Dakota, so when I left Sioux Falls, with its green-leaved trees and barely-brown lawns, after work on September 26, it hardly seemed like summer was ending. When I arrived at the Slim Buttes of Harding County around lunchtime the following day, the draws where adorned with the gold, yellow and orange dress of a high plains autumn. The problem, however, was that the sky was dull and overcast. Then for good measure, a determined string of raindrops began to fall. I don’t usually mind the rain, but I have seen the Slim Buttes catch the golden sunlight of an autumn evening. That’s why I came back.
There are several other places to find autumn beauty in this state. Sica Hollow State Park and the surrounding Coteau des Prairies hills and lakes in northeast South Dakota offer stunning patches of red sumac in the underbrush of yellow, green and orange foliage during late September. Goldenrods can still be in bloom along with aster if the rains hit just right. The northern Black Hills is well known for the bright yellows of birch and aspen that adorn Spearfish Canyon’s scenic byway. Custer State Park also has patches of color along its winding roads to the high country and lower creek valleys where the Southern Hills meet the open plains. It has become an annual journey for me to drive through this last hurrah of color before the wind blows it all away and snow covers the land.
I will always believe the Slim Buttes of Harding County is the best place to welcome autumn. The unique landform — a 300 to 400 foot rise in a giant L-shape from the high prairies — is majestic enough at any time of year, but it just doesn’t get any better than when the color of fall accents the hills and ridges against the deep greens and pine browns of Custer National Forest’s evergreens. And that is why I returned the day after it rained as the sun and clouds played tug-of-war in the sky. There was very little wind and the air was cool and fresh. It was light jacket weather with hardly any insects. High plains perfection. I stood for an hour in one spot along the JB Pass Road waiting for the sunlight to hit a patch of trees just right. A coyote called and I saw it move down a far ridge into the trees. A lone pickup passed along the road behind me and then it was quiet. Just me, the sky and trees as far as I could see. Food for the soul.
Later that evening, the sun broke free from the clouds just before sunset to bathe the castle formations in golden hour light. I was on my way east through the Reva Gap as the scene before me was transformed into a work of art. I stopped along the highway and shot photos until the sun was hidden behind the buttes again. This is why I lingered into the evening at one of South Dakota’s most remote but exceedingly breathtaking places. This is what I came to see.
Christian Begeman grew up in Isabel and now lives in Sioux Falls. When he’s not working at Midcontinent Communications he is often on the road photographing South Dakota’s prettiest spots. Follow Begeman on his blog.
The winds have howled the last few days, and autumn’s splendor seems to be flying away all too soon. It is a bittersweet season. All over the state, prairie landscapes accented with wooded draws and farm windbreaks have changed their colors in one last vibrant explosion, only to yield to winter’s bitter arrival. To me, autumn is a beautiful reminder of life’s end for another season, and the hope for its inevitable return. The return of the cold north wind reminds us to be like the wise ant of Aesoph’s Fable, and gather in the harvest for the long winter. Even the lengthening of the night will make the long days of the coming spring and summer that much more enjoyable.
For the last few years, I’ve taken time away from my day job to explore the beauty of our state’s autumn landscapes. This year was no different. When I journey through the Black Hills and then northeast to the upper Missouri River valley and then eastward again to the Coteau Hills, it has become a habit to immerse myself in good music to help pass the miles. Not that long ago, I”discovered” South Dakota artist Jami Lynn and purchased her album Fall is a Good Time to Die. It made sense to get to know the album on this year’s fall trip. Maybe it was just my mood as I took in the season’s visible changes while the music played, but I felt like the album is a poignant mix of joy and sadness, of both longing for and being at home. That sounds like fall to me.
 |
U2’s The Joshua Tree was popular when I was growing up. I listened to it as I spent hours in the tractor, summer fallowing amongst the Moreau River hills. Hearing that album now takes me back to those summer days and that rugged landscape. I have a sneaking suspicion that Jami Lynn’s album will do the same when I listen to it in the future, but instead of long, hard days of bright sun and harsh shadow, I’ll be transported to colorful fall vistas and cruising over the open roads of God’s country. It’s funny how music can cement memories and feelings into our consciousness like that. It’s also the reason so many of us instinctively take photos of our vacations and cross-country trips. After all, remembering the good things has a way of helping us through the inevitable tough times of life.
 |
So here are my South Dakota autumn postcards from this fall. Through my travels, I saw beautiful things across the state. For me, the images are best viewed with some good music playing in the background. I’ll turn up the volume and let my imagination take the trip across the open prairie, only to get lost in the grand beauty of it all once again.
Christian Begeman grew up in Isabel and now lives in Sioux Falls. When he’s not working at Midcontinent Communications he is often on the road photographing South Dakota’s prettiest spots. Follow Begeman on his blog.
 |
| Visitors have long reported strange occurrences at Sica Hollow in Roberts County. Photo by Chad Coppess/S.D. Tourism |
South Dakotans are no-nonsense folks, so we always struggle to find supernatural tales for our October issues, but we have heard a few through the years. One of my favorite spooky stories, published in our September/October 2014 issue, is about a mysterious bright, white light in Miner County that appears out of nowhere. Locals call it the spooklight. It can be seen along a particular stretch of dirt road between Carthage and Fedora. The story’s author, Donna Palmlund, talked to family and neighbors to get their spooklight accounts.
Palmlund’s father grew up on a farm west of Spooklight Road. His grandfather would say that sometimes the spooklight was so bright they could sit inside and read by it. After the Hass family moved off the farm, a man named Joe Spader lived there. “After I moved to that farm it wasn’t long before I was aware of this light that was very peculiar,” Spader said. He described the light as looking like a bright spotlight cresting a hill and then going down the hill, but a car would never materialize. Before he heard about the spooklight, he was worried someone was trying to steal something.
Another mysterious light has been seen in southeast South Dakota, looking over Nebraska’s Crazy Peak, which rises above the chalkstone bluffs on the Nebraska side of the Missouri River. Sometimes the view gives South Dakotans an unexplainable light show. “I’ve seen all sorts of UFOs there in the past,” said Carvel Cooley, a longtime local historian. “It’s just lights. They don’t make any noise and they can stop, start, zap out of sight, disappear and reappear.” Although a lot of locals have seen the lights, most don’t talk about it. Some give credit for the lights to swamp gas. Others bring up the Santee Sioux legends of seeing “little people” in the neighborhood of Crazy Peak.
Another well-known eerie South Dakota spot is Sica Hollow in Roberts County. Reports of strange voices, lights flashing in creek bottoms and bubbling red bogs along the Trail of Spirits make Sica Hollow a spooky place to visit any time of year. Its first Indian inhabitants dubbed the forested area”sica,” meaning bad or evil.
We visited with Chris Hull several years ago. Six generations of Hull’s family have lived near Sica Hollow. He has spent countless hours hunting or camping in the forest and has seen the glowing lights. Once he also had a more mysterious experience while camping with friends. They realized they had forgotten supplies, so one friend drove home to get them.
“We were hiking and heard him yell from down in the hollow,” Hull told us. “He must have yelled five or six times. We wondered if his truck had gotten stuck and he had started walking. So we walked for a mile and got down to the bottom, but there was nothing there. We climbed a hill to search for lights and found nothing. Finally we went back to the campsite and he pulled in at the same time. He said he was at home and he had all the sleeping bags and things he’d gone to get. But all five of us heard him yelling that night.”
When the leaves fall and Halloween is close at hand, we all like a good South Dakota ghost story. If you have one to share, let us know in the comments below or email editor@southdakotamagazine.com.
