It happens every year about this time. I come home from work to find out pumpkins have infiltrated the house. Today, three gathered in the window to surprise me. This early in the season, they are the small sugar pumpkins used for baking. As the season progresses, they’ll get larger, showing up on the mantle, dining room table or doorstep. I never know how many will turn up in any given fall season. The factor that determines the quantity of pumpkins is the size of Son’s wallet. The more moolah, the bigger the crop of pumpkin interlopers.
It all began when he was a child…. No, really, it did. The color orange might as well have been the ONLY color in the Crayola box. It was and still is his favorite color. I realized the extent of his obsession at his first Easter egg hunt. He walked past the purple, blue and green eggs gathering orange ones as fast as he could. There weren’t that many because the other kids were scooping up the orange eggs, too. But Son didn’t care. Never mind that he was passing up some really great candy stuffed inside those wrong color eggs. His treasure was all orange and he was happy.
The love of orange grew into the love of pumpkins which led to the love of all things Fall. And silly me, I followed his lead, decorating for Fall, Halloween and Thanksgiving as though it were… well… my favorite holiday, Christmas. The decorations filled six large tubs and were stored in the attic crawl space. And then he grew up and I got
old tired of hauling all that stuff out, putting it up, dusting around it (okay, not often, but still…) then putting it all away. So we’ve downsized the decorations. But the pumpkins, real and faux, still make their appearance every Fall. By the end of October the large pumpkins have toothy grins and candles. It’s the middle of November before the small pumpkins are baked in the oven, run through the Foley Food Mill and used as pie filling. Yes, Son does it the hard way, but he enjoys the process. Old Roady and I enjoy the pie.