Pick A Winner

Last year, I swore on the guts of my jack-o-lantern that I would plant pumpkins so I wouldn't have to buy pumpkins this year. Yup, I had big plans. Pumpkins in October are pricey (especially eight at a time!). Seed packets in April are cheap. That was the Master Plan.


Whatever. The three seed packets I purchased - to ensure I wasn't shelling out the cash for the privilege of hacking up large selections of produce, only to watch them slowly deflate on the front porch as I procrastinate their disposal - are still in my kitchen. I ended up paying for c) all of the above.


When it became painfully obvious that these were my circumstances, I started casting about for a way to make the most of it. We had to have pumpkins to carve (or it was going to be me that was eviscerated). Obviously, we were going to have the privilege of paying for them ... again.

So, why not find a place to get the pumpkins (besides the Grocery store!) where getting pumpkins became an experience, not just a means to an end. This thought, along with the state of affairs that encouraged it, rattled around in my head for weeks prior to the actual Pumpkin Purchasing Season.

So, I was thrilled to see a sign not-so-far-from-town advertising a Pumpkin Farm that had kid-friendly activities + pumpkin-picking options. This was it! The answer to my anxieties. I made Plans. But not an Appointment. Which is important, because if I don't get my Plan(s) on the calendar, or in Mark's planner, it's as good as Never Going to Happen.

After all, we couldn't get the pumpkins too early, or they would be mush when we went to carve them. And we couldn't carve them until the Monday before Halloween, for Family Home Evening. Because that's tradition. Seriously, I was never so bound by traditions until I was the mother of children-who-must-have-order-in-their-Universe that remembered them.

Not everyone picked out their own pumpkin, mostly the girls were more interested in the activities, but we got a cart full of pumpkin-carving awesomeness.

But miraculously, we had a Saturday sans pressing obligations, exactly one week before Halloween. The morning was sunny and bright and warmish. It was a perfect day for picking pumpkins. Tragically, we dawdled. So by the time we actually loaded up and headed out, it had clouded over.

the barrel ride was Yvette's favorite thing

...until she discovered the animals!

Also, it was a lot longer of a drive than we had anticipated (which is OK, because we are really enjoying our current Van Book, #5 in the Leven Thumps series), and by the time we got to the Pumpkin Farm, it had started to drizzle. Mark was frustrated, but I was determined to NOT waste this memory-building family experience.

blooming little girls

So I grabbed the camera and hustled the phoglets out of the van and into the drizzle, and we sallied forth, in search of kid-friendly activities and the perfect pumpkin.

Hyrum and Lucy at the rain-gutter Rubber Duckies race

George and I at the very abbreviated hay bale maze (observe the raindrop on the camera lens).

Mark as the photo-op scarecrow

Yvette as the photo-op scarecrow

They had these splendid all-terrain tricycles...very cool!

Go, Eliza, go!

I think, after the actual pumpkin choosing, the corn wagon was the most popular attraction. Maybe because it had a roof on it, and we were out of the rain?

corn wagon!

It was this: an old fashioned wagon box, filled 1/3 full with harvest corn. Not the mild-mannered popcorn variety, mind you. These were honking huge kernels. And the children simply climbed up in, and had a blast.


All variety of "sandbox" toys were provided, most improvised canisters and farm feed pans and the like. We phogles must have rattled around in the corn wagon for half an hour.

The kids would have stayed until dark, if we'd let them. Which, I admit, I was sorely tempted to do. Everyone - including the formerly grumpy Mark - was enjoying the corny fun.


But Dinner and Bath Night were still on the Itinerary, so it was not to be. And Hyrum - even though he was trying hard to be a good sport - was starting to feel miserable, so I felt like he needed to be taken home and put to bed

I found more than one kernel of corn on George's person when I stripped him down for his bath.

It was like a glorious sand box or dirt pile, only without the dirty, sandy part. Have you ever let your run your fingers through a container of grain, like rice or lentils or wheat? There's something very soothing and almost hypnotic about it.

Now imagine being seven (or five, or twelve, or whatever), and being able to play in it with your entire body. And not having to care if you spill anything. Or dump it on your sister. Because, it was, after all, bath night. Get as dirty as you want!

Don't let Gabba's face fool you, she was dishing it, too.

We got some great pumpkins, but this entire corn wagon concept was the true winner.