Long ago fall was a time to go for a family drive to see foliage and a visit to the pumpkin patch. We happily rode down sleepy route 10 past towns with sprawling enormous houses and by Court Street in Haverhill, where I grew up. We would finally arrive in Orford, New Hampshire, at the pumpkin farm and see aisles of the orange squash, short and towering tall ones and fat busty pumpkins awaiting eager customers. The farmer always smiled and kindly told the boys that they could choose a couple of gourds.
Climbing over a plunging pile of pumpkins, the boys would gladly pose for a photo and proceed to pick their favorite. Walking the displays back and forth, the boys inspected each face. Upon seeing their prize, their face would light up and instantly a small hand grabbed the scratchy stem. Proud and plump pumpkins were tucked in the back of the SUV while we paid the farmer.
The week of Halloween we broke out the carving knives, bowls, big spoons and newspapers for a carving good time. Sometimes the weather cooperated and we worked outside and others we made the best of it on the kitchen floor. Either way it was always entertaining to see our different pumpkin personalities.
Following the scooping out of the slimy orange guts, we would separate the pumpkin seeds and dry them off with paper towels. Once dried, I would spread them out on a baking sheet, drizzle with olive oil and roast for a scrumptious snack.
When spooky Halloween night arrived, at dusk I would place a little candle in each jack-o- lantern. The reflecting light brought each carved squash to life as their expressions came to spooky life. It was a special glow that we gawked at once a year in the depth of October.
Do you visit the pumpkin patch? Have you carved a beauty lately?
All My Best,
Heart and Soul 💗🎃