This is your farm editor speaking. 

   Back in the early days of radio, such a salutation was a commonplace. NBC daily carried a much-listened-to program, "Your Farm and Home Hour." KVOO, the Voice of Oklahoma, ran programs in the early morning and noon hours called "Rural Rowt 1170."

    That's correct. Rural Rowt. 1170 was the place on the radio dial you could find KVOO. "Rowt" was the way the stylebook ordered the announcer to pronounce "route." City slickers like me could pronounce it Rural Root from 9:30 to 11:30 weekday mornings, and again from 1:30 to sign off, but it was demanded of us to say Rowt those other hours. I found it hard to remember. Rowt; rowt; rowt!

    After that digression, again: "This is your farm editor speaking. Today my subject is the Euonymous-Alatus."

    There. You have now heard all I know about horticulture.

    My mother was an avid to obsessional gardener. I was her only field hand. In my teens, I swore I would never lift a shovel or hoe or rake after I reached voting age. I've broken many of my youthful vows. I've smoked. I've looked on the wine when it was red, but I'm proud to report that I have resisted all temptation to garden.

    When I was a graduate student at the University of Illinois, I passed a corner close to the campus, which at this time of year had a great bush turning fiery red. It was so remarkable that the local newspapers ran pictures of it and identified it as the Burning Bush, Euonymous-Alatus, and suggested everyone go see it in Farmhouse Fraternity yard.

    I've known several Euonymous-Alatii since. Only one other has been so gloriously scarlet. The ones in our yard out here on the sandstone outcrop above 36^th Street North are struggling to survive in 2002. But they look marginally less pitiful than those same bushes looked last year.

    We invite you to come inspect them after we all turn the clock back.

    The only Oklahoma competition to Farmhouse Corner was in our yard at 3826 South Birmingham Place. A fiery plant with an eight to ten foot diameter made a great conversation piece at autumnal parties.

    I took pleasure in telling guests the scientific name: Euonymous-Alatus. It sounded so academic; so horticulturisty; so gardenerish. I was off-handed as I fluted the words, but none of our guests was fooled. They knew I was a city type. They had listened to me when I was the only announcer who couldn't remember not to say "Rural Root 1170."