Which pumpkin are you?

We walked through the rows of big orange bulbous pumpkins. It was my lunch break and I had scooped Justin up and dragged him to the pumpkin patch.

For the past two years we have gone to the Southside United Methodist Pumpkin Patch. Last year, all the pumpkins were covered in strange spots, and they told us to look for one without them. Spots meant the pumpkins were spoiling. It had been a hot fall, and just like the rest of us, the pumpkins were not fairing well. Within days, our pumpkin had turned into a pile of mush. A weird, sort of sunken, oozing pile of mush.

Anyway, last years failure did not dissuade us from this years hopefulness. We had considered going someplace else, even actually scoped out some new patches, but the Southside United Methodist Patch was our patch. Our neighborhood. Our people [theoretically]. Our patch.

This year, the patch was thriving. I walked and weaved through the rows, looking for the perfect one. I, of course, wanted the largest one I could find, lifting up the large twenty pound balls of potentially edible vegetable to showcase my find.

Justin, however, loves the littler ones. Not the babies [although he does love those], but the ones you might pass over. The ones that don't look big and promising, or ominous, or daunting. He wants the middle guy. The almost little guy.

[here he is actually holding my "large" one, and I am showcasing his lovely selections]

And since this is his time of year, Justin forced to share his day of birth with a holiday that thrives on pretending to be something you are not, and on the end of life instead of its beginning, I give in. Although, I might would actually give in regardless of Justin's birthday [just ask Firman Barksworth III, our last Christmas tree - pictured below]. There is something sweet and honest about not going for the "greatest", but finding the one that's just right for you.

This year we bought four pumpkins. One each for he and I, and two babykins for Marco and Bella. So far, mine is the only one that hasn't survived the once again warm fall.