Pumpkin time

We have been going to Jacquemins Farm for a decade now. Although pumpkins patches abound in the areas surrounding the city, we like Jacquemins because you can save a full four cents a pound on your pumpkins by dragging a wagon and a kitchen knife out into the field and cutting your own pumpkins. Although the four cents a pound does add up when you buy 93 lbs of pumpkin, the real reason we do it is for the adventure.

We skirt our way around the garish, blow up, jumping houses for kids, try to ignore the ever encroaching cookie cutter houses from the new suburban developments and head for the open fields. Bute1 wants the absolute biggest pumpkin he can find, Bute2 wants a tall skinny one, Bute5 wants a green one and Bute6 wants what everyone else has. But after 30 minutes or so of prospecting, we fill up our wagon with our 6 pumpkins and start the long march back to the weigh-in center. We have carted our pumpkins through howling north winds, through ankle deep mud, which caked the wheels of our wagon, through drizzle and mist. But this year it was more reminiscent of the Dust Bowl. Everywhere the hay ride tractor went by it kicked up clouds of swirling dust which coated everything. Another year of a Bute family tradition.























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