We went to the pumpkin patch the other weekend.
Growing up in Chile, we didn’t really have a fall tradition. There was no Halloween there, and no Thanksgiving, of course. And I never really saw pumpkin farms like I see here. Pumpkins didn’t mean fall as a kid, to me. I’ve seen the orange fields in magazines and photos, something very ‘American.’
But here, and now, pumpkins are fall for me, in a beautiful, orange kind of way. I love it.
And this photo, yes! A tradition. I was thinking as I was taking it, we have one of them from every year (except last year, when we were in India.) And now, they seem so big, I can’t really get them between the pumpkins. You know what I mean? I can get their faces, or their feet with the pumpkins, unless they were sitting on the ground (usually wet and muddy though.) I noticed it was harder this time to get their photo surrounded by pumpkins, like they used to.