Perhaps this is how it came to be called squash.

Despite the fact that the weather was delightful, albeit occasionally more wet than the Halls would have liked, the poor little fledgling pumpkin out in front of the Hall perished on the vine last week. Photographic evidence shows that an invasion of worms took its toll on the infant. A brief moment of mourning was held over breakfast last Saturday, followed by a dramatic reading of an original writing by Colleen: "Eulogy: Tendrils in the Sunset- ashes to ashes, squash to squash." There wasn't a dry eye in the house when she got to the part about it being cut down in the vine of its life.

So it was with genuine delight that the early Sunday morning light brought the revelation of two new pumpkins in the works. The larger of the two is well on its way to maturity, and since a broad streak of sporting blood flows through the family veins, it is only a matter of time til book is made and odds drawn on the first to achieve full carving status. Stay tuned.