I don't know about you and your neck 'o' the woods, but we have been so busy gettin' our gourd on this month that we've got pumpkins coming out of our asses over here.
Pumpkin families frozen in various states of pretend play litter the kids' playroom, pumpkins scattered on our front porch perching jauntily atop bales of hay, pumpkin corpses lay around the backyard, abandoned after hardcore pumpkin play sessions. I should really learn to make some pumpkin pie because they are starting to look at me accusatorially. MURDERER! They silently scream as Henry carts another "Mommy" and "Daddy" pumpkin off to what will certainly end in torn stems and dented heads
We grew some of our own in our backyard before a mysterious white powder I now know to be fungus swept in and destroyed our humble crop. We've been on no less than three hay rides, strolled several pumpkin patches, drank gallons of hot chocolate, eaten enough home-made Amish pie to kill a horse, attended several fall festivals where Violet and Henry painted tiny pumpkins but mostly each other, and we are, as I type, preparing ourselves for a haunted Halloween train ride (costumes included!) tomorrow evening after which we will most likely come away with more pumpkins. Good gourd.
Happy fall, y'all.