In The Pumpkin Patch

Every year, like all good parents, we take our kids to the pumpkin patch.  We load them up and then unload them in a big field of orange, saying a quick Thank You to God for his great love for us which He displays by letting us live in Sonoma County, where we get to pick pumpkins under a cloudless blue sky.

Have you ever seen such a thing as cute as a tiny boy holding a tiny pumpkin?  Neither have I.  This pumpkin came a little easier than it did the year before, when he ended up sobbing when his sibling put his pumpkin into the wagon for him, when everyone knows that little boys want to do everything for themselves.  Such drama!

I need to be honest with you, lovely reader.  I know I’ve made it seem as if we took our kids to the pumpkin patch this year, though, as you’ll note, I never actually said that we did.  But the cold, hard truth is that these pictures are from 2009, when the little boy above was a mere 4 years old.  Not even making a mess at the finger paint table in kindergarten, yet.

You see, the short story is this:  We all got really busy, what with raising a family and homeschooling all the kids for the first year.  And who knows, maybe we’ll  go.  There’s still time and hope springs eternal.

The best part of the pumpkin patch is the hunt for the perfect pumpkin.  During this particular trip to the patch, we were the only family on the field, and yet the kids still scrambled around looking for their gourd like they being chased by the Headless Horseman himself.

Violet, being always and ever so sweet, paused to give me a flower.  To this day, which we’ve established earlier is two years later, I still think of this moment whenever I see these flowers (weeds?) growing along the side of the highway.   Such a kind hearted girl, my youngest daughter.

Wanting to participate in the festivities and not be a slave to getting The Perfect Shot, I realized later that I didn’t get pictures of all the kids.  Which I am sure is a mommy faux pas, but no worse than neglecting to take your kids to the pumpkin patch for the entire season.

Proof that I have at least one more child:  Here’s David strolling with his little sister.  They decided to make their hunt a joint venture.  Their father and I told the kids that they had to be able to carry the pumpkin on their own in order to claim it.   You should have seen the amount of brute strength these kids exerted in their efforts to secure a pumpkin into which the littlest sibling could have  nestled.

Enter another daughter, Hannah.  Way up the slide, but comin’ down fast.  We felt this was the perfect way to round out the afternoon.  The sheer glee that is so evident in Frank’s face made hiking amongst all the dirt and bugs that accompany a big field full of squash all worth it.

You’d think  after feeding and diapering six kids that nothing would really gross me out anymore, but that’s not true.  I still get a little queasy when it comes time to clean the innards out of the pumpkins.  Never am I more thankful for my husband than I am on carving day.  I make a small effort (nobody really buys it) to help with at least one pumpkin, but Troy does the rest of them.

That act of deep and abiding love – along with Frank’s face of glee – is really what makes the dirt, bugs and guts a small price to pay.