I love the cool weather; or I love the cool weather when it finally arrives. (It feels like it finally arrived, and looks like it may stay for a couple days.)
I love the decorations; the mums, leaves, pumpkins, and the colors of fall.
I love the parties and gatherings this time of year; the Relief Sale, pumpkin carving party, barn party, sit around the fire and roast marshmallows party, trick or treating.
I love pumpkin spice coffee. This year I discovered pumpkin spice beer. Life is good.
Pumpkin spice muffins, cookies, pumpkin bars, ....
And, our family trip to the pumpkin patch. Over the years, this has become a tradition.
It started when we first moved, 6 years ago. Friends of ours were gracious enough to invite us to a nearby patch. They knew we needed to get out of the house.
The following year, I don't think we made it to the patch. At least, I don't have any pictures of the patch. With an infant in the house, I'm not surprised. We probably picked one up at the Relief Sale. Guess what, I don't have pictures of that either.
Carting a baby, a toddler, and a preschooler tends to limit your picture taking ability. It also limits your ability to remember to take the camera. Remembering those days just increased my desire for a nap.
The year after that we did make it to the patch. I had to push everyone out the door, into the car, out of the car, and into the patch.
It was one of those days. Even though it was spitting rain that morning, we were getting out of the house, and having some family fun. So everyone have fun, NOW!
The following year we visited a different pumpkin patch, which was more fall amusement then pumpkin patch. In fact, we never made it to the patch. We paid the admission, and let the kids play all afternoon. Then we picked some pumpkins off of a shelf, paid for them, and went home.
I like traipsing through the field for my pumpkins, so the following year we found an old fashion pumpkin patch. No admission fee, no games, wagons for the kids to push, and large, sharp clippers to let children carry, and just pumpkins, sitting in a field, ready to be picked.
And, please make checks payable to Myer's Pumpkins.
As in Michael Myers. (The mailbox, where you leave payment, used to read Michael Myers. Unfortunately, I never took a picture of it till this year, when they changed the name on the box. Why? I don't know, because leaving money in a mailbox labeled "Michael Myers" is perfect for this time of year.)
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