Pumpkin Picking (or Pickin').

Last weekend we took Olive to a local pumpkin patch.

Now, if you are thinking of a big field where someone planted a bunch of pumpkins and you get to literally pick your own pumpkin from the plant, you are wrong.

This patch is neatly arranged on the front lawn of a large church in town. They've been doing it for a long time. As long as I can remember, or maybe just as long as I've been paying attention, but they definitely hosted the patch before I up and left for St. Louis.

We arrived at the patch on Saturday around 1030a. There were very few pumpkins - less than 1/4 of the space allotted was full of pumpkins. I was shocked at the run on pumpkins the patch must have experienced.

But, when we got out of the car, we were assured that the pumpkin truck was on its way. It had been lost, but had been righted. Now, if you are thinking of a cute, old pick-up truck with wood slat walls to its bed and pumpkins stacked to overflowing, you are wrong.

We played with Olive among the pumpkins for about 10 minutes, when the volunteers started to shuffle and gather. The pumpkin truck was here!! Around the corner, turned an 18-wheeler loaded to the gills with pumpkins of all varieties. We watched the volunteers unload pumpkins and gourds (or is it, gourds, including pumpkins?) until Olive was bored with the pumpkin procession.

Then, we purchased our chosen pumpkins and headed on about our way.