Seasons passing

I only went to the pumpkin patch three times this year, and yes, that may sound like two times too many, but they love it so. Two of the trips were with different classes at school and if we're talking about memories here, then there's no such thing as too many good ones.

I actually never went to the pumpkin patch as a kid, not even once. I'm probably among friends here, but I can't really remember if they were a big thing in the 70's, were they? Had the marketing machine infiltrated society so much back then as it has now? I'm pretty sure it hadn't. Regardless, I now go to the pumpkin patch whenever I'm asked.

And later we carve, and scoop and get messy and the kids plan out their own designs and draw them on the pumpkins. Each night we forget to light them like we say we're going to, there's not much incentive to do so, for no one comes to the house to trick-or-treat, we're not sitting in the right spot, so the lighting and the candles is just for us. I'm happy to light the candles, I know what that feels like still, to get lost in the light and to see what it does to a carved pumpkin, and for me it's a little glimpse of what's to come with Christmas, and the lights, and the tree.


But I'm getting ahead of myself here. I hardly like to skip over Thanksgiving and if you want to know the truth it's become my favorite holiday, right up there with Christmas. I'm the recently (self-) appointed hostess and I love it. Thanksgiving was a season to be tolerated and quickly glanced over when I was young, but I secretly always wanted it to be big, and overflowing with food and laughter and family and I had visions of those things every year, I just never knew they'd be the ones I'd one day create in my own home.

So I'm painting, constantly vaccuuming up sheet rock dust and planning and waiting on furniture and hoping this disassembled living space is ready in part for guests. I know the addition won't be finished, but it's far enough along to have a great Thanksgiving. Someone timed that just right.