Trares
Poking through the long grass and oversized leaves, we were on a treasure hunt.
This one was too big. This other one was too small.
Then we spotted it — the perfect pumpkin.
On a picturesque autumn afternoon, our family had been invited to a local friend’s farm. There would be bonfires, a playground and crafts for the kids. We were planning on roasting hot dogs and enjoying cups of warm apple cider.
Most important of all was the pumpkin patch. Our hosts had planted a thriving patch years ago, and each fall found a good portion of their yard covered in bright orange orbs. As part of the party, guests could search out their own gourd to take home with them.
At first, Anthony was unsure about the party. We had planned some other activities for earlier in the day, including a fall craft fair and lunch at one of our favorite lakeside restaurants, where he feasted on french fries and warm pretzel bread sticks.
So the last thing he wanted to do with the rest of his Saturday was stand around at a grown-up party with nothing to do.
I understood his feelings; often, the last thing I want to do is go to grown-up parties. But I laid out how this one was going to be different — the crafts, the playground and the hot dogs.
Anthony warmed up, but wasn’t fully convinced.
That’s when I mentioned the pumpkin patch.
“You know, you’ll get to pick out your very own pumpkin during the party. Maybe you’ll even be able to get two,” I told him.
His eyes lit up. We usually got our Halloween pumpkins from a local farm market, or at the grocery store if it had been a busy October.
Here was the opportunity to get his very own gourd and pick it right off the vine. Anthony was sold.
The party unfolded just as I had envisioned it. We socialized with our friends, watching the kids clamber up and down the slides and ride on the tire swing. Standing around the bonfire, we laughed and joked with one another while catching up with those we hadn’t seen in a while.
All the while, Anthony was looking wistfully at the pumpkin patch. There wasn’t any complaining or whining, but you could see he was chomping at the bit to get out there.
Finally, he couldn’t be restrained any longer. We walked with him through the long grass in search of a future jack ‘o’ lantern.
The options were plentiful, with a variety of gourds in green, yellow, white and more growing in different areas of the garden. But Anthony found right where the perfectly orange pumpkins were, and went to work checking for flaws.
He’d lift one up, then scrunch up his face as he saw one was lopsided, or had dings that just wouldn’t work. Some looked great from the top, but upon checking underneath, it was discolored or soggy.
The search went on. Anthony started getting frustrated that he couldn’t find what he was looking for. That is, until he pushed aside a few leaves to reveal the bright orange beneath.
“That’s the one!” he shouted, running over to it.
I held my breath, hoping it looked as flawless underneath as it did on top. And it did — Anthony lifted it up, a smile as bright as the late afternoon sun.
We didn’t stay at the party much longer. As we were saying our goodbyes, Anthony showed off the pumpkin he picked out (and the less perfect one that he wanted me to have.)
Those pumpkins are sitting on the front porch right now. Next comes the big question — what faces to carve into them?
Ryan Trares is a senior reporter and columnist for the Daily Journal. Send comments to [email protected].
