My family’s annual pumpkin-picking festivities in New Jersey commenced this past weekend. The boys (my nephews, for those that don’t know) were incredibly excited for it. I mean, we’re talking happy dances and chants of “we’re going to the pumpkins, the pumpkins! Ah yeah!”
I was pretty thrilled too. Pumpkin-picking, corn-mazing, hay-riding and cider doughnut-eating are all activities that I feel are necessary for that true fall experience. Or at least, what I’ve come to know as the true fall experience. It helps me to appreciate the season a little more, despite my usual whiny “But I don’t wanna!” attitude about it.
Bob picked a 10lb. pumpkin despite my argument against having one half the size of our kitchen counter occupying precious space in our apartment. “Because it’s the reason we’re here“, he told me, and very matter-of-factly at that. I think a small pumpkin can be just as festive, but one thing about this guy of mine is that once he decides he wants something, he’s completely committed and there’s almost zero chance of talking him down from it. Don’t even ask me how I talked him out of buying a Spiderman statue the other day. It came thisclose! And so a 10lb. pumpkin, along with my fun-sized one, was brought home with big carving plans in mind. Jack Skellington portrait, anyone?
Now I’m off to watch It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown. That’s as scary as I get for Halloween.