My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird
I would fly about the earth seeking successive autumns.
My sentiments exactly. Or almost exactly, for Elliot forgot to mention that the bird would be looking for pumpkin patches!
I love every aspect of fall, but perhaps my favorite part of fall is the pumpkins.
How ironic in the season that we focus on words like "dying" and
"surrender" and "letting go" and "moving into darkness," there are pumpkins. What could be sillier than something big, round and orange? And what about all the varieties of pumpkins: Cinderella, Aladdin, Baby Boo, Jack Be Little, Lumina and Red Warty Thing. And what about the one that looks like peanut shells have been attached with a glue gun?
Furthermore, pumpkins just aren't orange any more. They are pale green, almost grey, and darker green and peach, and white, and yellow and red. I love them all.
Light on the Meaning.
For once I am not going to do a deep reflection here. I won't meditate on the meaning of my love of pumpkins. They make me smile. They bring me pleasure, and I like to think that people walking by our home experience a touch of pleasure when they see my collection of pumpkins as well.
Pumpkins are playful. Yes, I could turn them all into pies or soups and stews. Recipes abound, and maybe I will do one or two, but I am content with the way they seem to smile back at anyone who notices them. "Yup, I know I look kind of silly, but that's my job."
Of course, as with anything now that I am in my mid 60's, there are memories attached, even to pumpkins. Perhaps my favorite is remembering our son and daughter-in-love's October wedding. The rehearsal dinner was outside under a tent at our farm, and your eye could not rest without seeing a pumpkin --in
the gardens, on the tables, stacked outside the garage and at the entrance to the tent. I loved roaming the countryside, scouting out every Amish farmstand and loading the back of my Jeep with pumpkins. Maybe just one more. And then as if that weren't enough, a friend of the bride's painted a tiny pumpkin for every guest as their place card and favor at the wedding reception! Loved it.
I also recall that it was my mother who enlightened me about white pumpkins. many years ago. I didn't know there was such a thing--had never seen one. When Mom and Dad came to visit us in Ohio one fall, we headed into the countryside on a mission to find white pumpkins. Now they are everywhere, but at that time, we were trendsetters!
Of course, I can't close without at least a little reflection. Pumpkins remind me to see the beauty, to allow surprise to enter my life, to play, even for a few minutes.
Pumpkins offer me an opportunity to consider what I have been gathering in these last months and to ask myself what I will make of what I have gathered within.
Pumpkins, in their bounty and their individuality, remind me to give of myself. Generously. To reveal my own inner riches.
Invite a pumpkin to come home with you and let it entertain you.
Many people love fall, but dread winter. What is it about fall you love? Do you have pumpkin stories to share? Or pictures?
What does fall mean to you emotionally? Spiritually?