Who doesn't love a pumpkin?
I love pumpkins. (I say this every year, because I love to repeat things unnecessarily.) I especially love pumpkins "en masse." Not at Catholic church; but in large groups. So sweet.
I have been Halloween-i-fying the house, and I haven't had a chance to make it to the Farmer's Market yet. To buy pumpkins, that is. My pal, Jeanna, and I made a quick stop there after Bible Study on Tuesday to grab some hay bales.
She bought pumpkins, but I knew that the wrath of Baby Giraffe would come down upon me if I picked out pumpkins without him. He gets his love of the pumpkin from his momma.
So we made a mad stop for hay bales... in her minivan. 2 moms, 1 baby, and 3 bales of hay in a minivan. Don't ask how we did it. Just try to imagine it in your mind.
When we got to her house, where my car was parked, I put my bale in the back of my car. And all the way home I couldn't stop thinking about a snake crawling out of that hay bale and slithering up to the driver's area with me. The fear was
overwhelming me. You may know I have an intense hatred for all things snakey. It was so bad, I had to roll the windows down for fresh air, pray, and think happy thoughts to avoid a panic attack.
Please don't try to tell me it was irrational. I know someone personally who had a snake crawl out of her Fall Festival hay bale into her back seat.
I also grew up on a farm. My daddy still bales hay to this day... and I
know what can get baled up in that hay. Might as well call them "snake bales." Gheesh. I'm getting the heebie jeebies just thinking about it.
When I got home, I jerked that hay bale out of my car as fast as a middle-aged momma in wedge shoes can jerk a hay bale. (Those farm girl skills do pay off.) I tossed it on the front porch, poked my scarecrows down into it, and shivered all the way inside.
It's a long holiday weekend here for the boy and Dan/Daddy. We head out to the Farmers Market tomorrow
AND the pumpkin patch on Monday.
Bring on the pumpkin love.
I would be doing you a disservice if I didn't tell you about the lady that lives a few streets over from me. I see her around school time every morning, and she has tiny little stuffed pumpkins on the dash of her car. All lined up. LOTS of them.
I keep wondering... What happens when she has to slam on the brakes?
Now that's pumpkin love on a whole new level.