8 hours ago
September 23, 2008
Simply put, I love fall. I love everything about it. I love the cooler weather and the glorious colors that burst to life with the changing of the leaves. I love sweaters, fire places and high school football games. But, above all else, I love pumpkins. From the miniature variety to the fabulous "Cinderella" to the giant-hoping-to-break-the-world-record contender - I love them all. Just to see a pumpkin patch makes me giddy.
Our poor family is all too familiar with my pumpkin fetish. They all know that come fall our home will be decked out from head to toe in its most festive pumpkin attire. Each year I buy a new pumpkin to add to my collection. The collection runs the gambit from porcelean to wood to paper mache.
Over the years I have even put forth my best effort to instill my love of the pumpkin in my nephew and niece. Each year they come to the house a week or so before Halloween and we carve a pumpkin and maybe bake a few cookies. My niece adores the process of scraping the inside of the pumpkin clean. She digs in with both hands, working away until not a string remains. My nephew on the other hand is completely disgusted by it. He stands back with a look on his face as if he is witnessing the bloodiest of surgeries. Once she has it cleaned and prep'd he is ready for the artistry to begin! We carve our masterpiece and then strike a pose with it - another pumpkin carving photo for the memory book.
There are some who might accuse me of being a little obsessed with the pumpkin. And I do readily admit a pumpkin patch makes me terribly happy. And, yes, I won't deny that I have invented an entire new season in honor of the pumpkin. But unlike a highly misunderstood boy with a blanket you'll never find me in a field holding a sign that reads "Welcome Great Pumpkin"....as far as you know.