We usually visit the pumpkin patch about a mile from our home.
Not this year, though. See, that pumpkin patch is really crowded and has even added more parking (albeit of the muddy variety) in order to accommodate the visitors.
That’s not really our scene.
Instead, we headed south several miles, to Meert Tree Farm, where we get our Christmas tree every year. I love this place. It’s not like these city patches and farms. This is a REAL farm, like the ones around where I grew up. They were selling pumpkins this year, and though it may not have been their first year for pumpkins, we didn’t remember seeing them there before.
We pulled in and the lot was mostly empty. Only 3 or 4 cars sat in the parking area. “Wow,” we thought. “This is, yes, certainly less crowded.” We piled out of the truck and climbed aboard the waiting tractor and wagon. We were the only ones heading to the patch, and perhaps because he thought we’d be lonely, one of the family’s dogs accompanied us to the patch.
It didn’t take us long to find four good-sized pumpkins in the field. Ethan whined some because the brush and weeds were almost as tall as he is, but he persevered and found a nicely-shaped pumpkin for himself:
“This is my pumpkin,” he seems to be saying. “There are many like it, but this one is mine.”
Laurel found one too, and even carried it herself, all the way to the corn maze. We went through the corn maze. Well, sort of. We didn’t find our way out but walked back through the rows so we’d be out before the wagon came back to pick us up. We had places we had to be later that day, so we couldn’t stay to finish the whole thing.
This is the first year Ethan’s really been into Halloween. Truthfully, he’s a little more into Christmas, and keeps asking us if it’s Christmas yet, and when we can get a tree. I think I’ve talked about the virtues of Halloween (and the fact that it comes before Christmas) enough times now that he’s getting it — he’s especially looking forward to the candy part.
At the end of the trip, there had been very little fussing, fighting, crying, and whining. And THAT, friends, means Greg and I were still smiling: