Tuesday, September 29, 2009

And so begin the fall festivities...

“But Mom- you promised!”
Mrs. Hall looked up from her Sunday paper and at the low hanging clouds outside. If we go for pumpkins right now, we might only get slightly soaked, she thought hopefully to herself. Grabbing her Burberry’s trencher, she sighed, “Gather up your brother and assemble in the van. We’re going to get some pumpkins. ” Amid cheers and whoops, the little band bounced over the countryside to Tim’s Pumpkin Patch. The young ones are not so young anymore, but who can resist the appeal of an open field and the choice of hundreds of thousands bright orange orbs, all begging to be taken home and carved? Certainly not the Halls. “Wow- we’re havin’ some fun now!” exclaimed Master Ian, as he ran down the gravel path with the wheelbarrow, full of muddy rain water. The first wheelbarrow full took nearly 45 minutes to bring back to the van, soaking wet and exhausted; the second barrowful took only a half hour, having dug a deep enough rut in the muddy field to find their way back again. Photographic evidence of their “fun” reveals that, while they may have arrived neatly attired, the pumpkin patch took a muddy toll on their clothing, and also, much to Mrs. Hall’s chagrin, her chariot. It was to the aged van's credit that it still managed to toddle over hill and dale, bearing three medium sized folks and several hundred extra pounds of gourds.
Perhaps it was the rain, running down her face and washing her makeup off, but Mrs. Hall, for one brief moment, began to mist up. O, for the old days, she began to reminisce; the days when you two were so small I could put you in a cart with the pumpkins themselves. In those days, they used to “haunt” the old Goebbert’s Farm and Market, in Barrington IL. The old farm is long gone, but the happy memories of frolicking with the animals in the petting zoo and picking those perfect pumpkins linger on. Posted here, for those Gentle Readers who remember it, are some shots of that once charming destination, including the gleaming orange buck-toothed pumpkin atop the silo, that could be seen for miles away, down the highway.

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