Pumpkin Patch

This year we took the busy family's way out of actually taking a trip to a farm for a real pumpkin patch. We traveled just a few blocks away to the pumpkin patch concocted on the lawn of a local church. Regardless of the shoddy nature of this family venture, our trip to the patch was a success. We procured a large pumpkin to sit along with the mini-pumpkins (painted by the boys earlier in the month) on our stoop and Zola got her first chance to sit amongst the pumpkins.

Thankfully Zola's first trip to the pumpkin patch was not as traumatizing as Milo's first such experience. He screamed bloody murder the moment we plopped him down beside the towering orange behemoths. No smiley photo-ops that day. And I will never forget Calder's first trip to the pumpkin patch. That was the year we lived in Williamsburg, VA, and the farm we visited was picaresque and just a short ride from our home. The pumpkins were still attached to their lovely curling vines and they were the most beautiful heirloom variety pumpkins I'd ever seen, some striped and of varying shades of my favorite color orange. The warm, bright sun shone down on us and for a while, no one was throwing a tantrum or crying. Just wonderful.

Anyhoo, this trip was short and painless. No pumpkins were harmed during the duration of our visit and only one of our three children was punished on the way home from the patch.