Sunday, October 24, 2010

Pumpkin Patch Pickin'

It's Fall around here! Autumn goodness. As much as I cling to summer there are some rites of the seasons' change that I adore. A gorgeous afternoon at the Pumpkin patch makes the shorter days and cooler weather seem Almost bearable. And look at these pumpkins...
The cutest darn things you ever saw. We made a trip first to store our boats at my gracious Aunt Sue and Uncle John's barn; where Mick used some sort of orgami with boat trailers to fit both large buggers in... and so we were famished and thought we'd do a little $5 footlong tailgating at the patch. Dreamy.

And then we set out into one of the most sincere patches in search of the perfect pumpkins.

This year we hit a new patch. And get this--- the pumpkins really grow on the vines. Yay for Knapps pumpkins. I have witnessed tractors dumping pumpkins- yes Californian pumpkins into Greenbluff patches to keep up with the supply and demand needs. Ridiculous. Unenchanting. Yes.

Look at all these vines. Teaming with pumpkins. Waiting to be picked.

By us and the 4,241,288 other people at Greenbluff. Not exactly a moment of solitude, but hey- we didn't care.

Look at this face: it was the best time ever!!!

Pumpkins rolling everywhere- and a wagon?!! Does it get any better?

Will found a wonky Veggie-Tale shaped pumpkin and Ben found a gloriously round and orangy-orange one and Ty rolled his with Mom's help ALL the way to the wagon. Such an adventure. And then, tuckered out, Ben created a Pumpkin Bed... which led to this and then...
to this. I think our time here is done. Cinderella's Fairy Godmother would be proud!
Let's roll.

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Feels like Home...

Did you ever come to a place and instantly recognize it as your ‘Ultima Thule,’ the one spot in all God’s world where you belonged- where your roots could go deep into the soil which would forever nourish you, where inspiration and spiritual blessing welled up from the earth to the top of the tallest Tamarack, spread to the encasing bowl of sky, return on every waterway to feed you everlastingly? Such a spot, so it seemed to me, was Priest Lake. ~ Nell Shipman, 1924