The pumpkins

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 I love having this tradition. (No, not this photo, but going to the pumpkin patch.)

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.

And two more things besides the pumpkins.  The apple cider, and the apple cider donuts.

Yes.  A beautiful fall this is.



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