The Pumpkin Farm

A northern suburb tradition: the local pumpkin farm. And not just any pumpkin farm. This is the one that they have been going to since Jason was a little boy.  But it has grown so commercialized since then.

And very misleading. There is no entrance fee to get in. So, you think you will be able to do everything. You can pick out a pumpkin to purchase, etc. But to get to the animals, to play on the tractors, etc. you do pay extra. They should just charge the fee up front. Would make more sense. So, in addition to the pumpkins, we saw giraffes, kangaroos and a pumpkin-eating dinosaur (who knew?).

But M & C were very excited and Nana & Papa wanted to take them, so we went. M said very clearly, “I want a white pumpkin.” I have never seen a white pumpkin. And she didn’t mean a little baby gourd. She wanted a normal pumpkin. She just wanted it to be white. And there in the middle of the whole pumpkin patch, was an entire section of normal WHITE pumpkins. C was her cheerful self, and wanted an orange pumpkin, which she has declared is her favorite color this week. Of course, she also wanted to pick out one that she could carry herself. This was a bit more difficult. But we found one and they are both now sitting at Papa’s house waiting to be carved.


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