writing

Pumpkin Hunting

She woke to a crisp autumn morning, an unusual day for Florida. Today was the opening of the pumpkin patch out at Hunsader’s. She looked forward to this day, and her hopes for a cool day finally came true.

She tucked a stray curl behind her ear as she organized her camera packing up for the day. She donned her burgundy boots, jeans and a long sleeved shirt, along with her hat, appropriate for falls up north, but suitable for today as well.

She arrived at the farm. The dew on the field was just right for some early shots of the patch. It looked like frost clinging to the round orange gourds covering the field. The sun was still low and bounced around the dew and mist, creating a calming scene. If it were any darker, it might turn eerie.

As the mist and dew evaporated, the field opened to the public. Her boots squished a little in the soft dirt as she walked through the rows. Her hat bounced the rays off her head, offering some shade. A breeze floated over the patch, keeping the air unseasonably cool.

The pumpkins varied in color and size. She couldn’t resist her desire to carve a jack-o-lantern for the upcoming holiday. She always kept hers sweet – kitties in the moon light, a witch flying through the air, or the classic jack-o-lantern zigzag smile. This year, she decided to be a bit more decorative, scroll work with dots, meaning she’d get to work with a drill. But first, she needed the perfectly round and squat pumpkin to make her work of art.

She found tall ones, short ones, even a few fun looking spooky ones, but her hope waned. She wasn’t seeing “it”, that perfect pumpkin. As she approached the far end of the patch, she finally sighted not one, not two, but three perfect pumpkins in staggered sizes and shades of cream to bright orange. She squealed with delight for the pumpkins were just right.

She picked up the two smaller ones, taking them to the stand to pay, then returned to lug the third one, a weighty large pumpkin, and hauled it to the front as well. The farmer running the patch smiled at her collection and offered to take a shot of her. She laughed as she posed like a little kid with her pumpkin finds, then loaded them up in the car and headed home.

writing

Fall Like Conditions

A cool breeze tousled her short brown hair. A smile came across her face like the fresh air from the change of scenery. Soon, fall would arrive. It was her favorite season. She had escaped the sweltering heat of summer for this break, knowing it would only last a week, and then it would be a while until she could enjoy the crisp weather back home.

Some of the aspen and maple leaves were already changing out West. She hadn’t seen true seasons in ages, but the sprinkling of golds and bright reds reminded her of Autumn’s beauty. She inhaled the smell of pine, another reminder of the coming changes.

Evenings, a fire pit beckoned her to approach and warm herself in the twilight. She donned her father’s thermal; her mother gave it to her over a decade ago. It was her favorite way to stay warm on cool evenings and perfect for the weather that evening. She took a seat in one of the Adirondack chairs and rested her feet on the edge of the fire pit.

A nearby aspen’s leaves shimmered and quaked by the firelight, mesmerizing her for a while. A memory of youth, cable knit sweaters in fall colors and jeans, passed through her mind. She liked the cooler weather; the clothing helped to hide her flaws and calmed her. It was a time she felt more confident, more flirty and free. Her smile widened; she wished she could capture those feelings in a bottle and tap them at any time.

Slowly the chill set in and it became time to seek out a warmer spot. She headed back to the cabin, leaving the curtain open to keep watching the scene outside, while bundled up next to a fire and warmer surroundings inside. She’d like to spend more time in these surroundings and enjoy more of the fall-like weather. Maybe one day she will.