Autumn is No Summer, But ...

I used to think autumn was my favorite season. I now look at it more as a precursor to winter, my least favorite time of year, and start to get anxiety about shorter days and colder weather.

Summer has once again been named as my favorite, but alas, here I sit a good three seasons away from it. Still, there are a few great things about fall. Football. That is pretty great. And, this weekend we did the other thing I find great about it: We picked our pumpkins.

I think the best part of any season is its traditions. Just like we go pick out a tree at Christmas time, or dye eggs for Easter, we also go pick out our pumpkins, in some grand way, each Halloween.

Since having children, Halloween has become a lot more fun. In my 20s and beyond, I didn’t find much joy. Unless you are built like a stripper, the costumes for a woman my age are a bit limited. I mean, really, how many women can pull of the “naughty nurse” bit?

Not many … very gracefully, if you ask me.

But, thankfully kids have brought me back out of the “stripper-esque” aisle of costumes and back into superheroes and animated favorites.

When I was a kid, my mom labored over elaborate costumes like Disney’s Chip and Dale, in fully, accurately designed furry head-to-toe matching, hand-made suits for both my sister and me. Since I am not nearly as gifted as using a sewing machine, my kids are destined for whatever is left in the Walmart dress-up aisle come the week of Halloween.

And, since I can’t deliver total awesomeness on the costume department, we try to make a big deal out of picking out our pumpkins. This year, we picked Freddy Hill Farms, in Lansdale.

Since my parents were in town, it was a fun day for the whole family. We did the Fall Festival, complete with hayride, a corn maze and funnel cakes.

We deposited ourselves (for $2.50 per person, I might add) into an itchy pile of straw and bumped our way along the trail out into the field way behind the farm. There was what seemed like miles of patches in which to make our selections. We seemingly roamed through nearly all of them before finding two we found to be acceptable.

Granted, I waited until eight days before the actual holiday to take my kids out, so we had to wade through many a rotting gourd before we found a few they really liked. This year, my son picked a half-green, half-orange pumpkin. It is tall and thin. My daughter picked a fat, round orange counterpart.

We carted our finds home and got to work. Thankfully, Aunt Hillary was here to do most of the dirty work. After supplying newspaper to cover the table, spoons and knives, mommy got to take pictures and laugh while the three “kids” dug in.

After a few icky moments of pumpkin “guts,” (of which my daughter refused to touch) they were ready to create their Jack ‘o’ lanterns. Their very crafty aunt created a pumpkin tribute to Ironman and a kitten, per the two orders.

We now have well-lit displays sitting on our front porch step. And, I’m glad they are there to mark the coming night of tricks and treats. No, my kids still have not settled on their costumes, but at least that is one thing off the tradition list.

I love tradition. And, nothing is more fun than enjoying a crisp fall afternoon with the entire family in tow.