Pumpkins & Potatoes
Our Sunday was slowly starting, and a warm sleepiness lingered in The Barn. A was snuggled under her covers, drowsily listening to her audio book, L was still sleeping and I was making thick, fluffy, whole wheat pancakes. Plain for L and spiced pear for A and I. The kitchen table was set with plates, maple syrup, cream, chopped roasted hazelnuts and extra slices of pear. Coffee scented steam drifted from the French press. There were two very important events happening today. A trip to the pumpkin patch and Jon returning back to us after a month visiting friends and family in the U.S. My little bubble of happy anticipation swelled in my stomach. I checked my phone to see how far on his journey from Heathrow he was - perhaps passing Stonehenge or maybe even closer? The “Find My” person app was also apparently sleepy, but eventually it proclaimed he was here. I was disbelieving, thinking the app had given up and chosen an easy answer, but it reminded me to unlock the front door. And there, outside, with suitcase in hand, was Jon. Arriving just in time for breakfast. A leaped out of bed, eyes bright with emotion, and adhered herself to him in a long hard hug. We followed him into L’s dark bedroom and watched with love as Jon gently woke her and she gathered him to her in groggy surprise.
The day unfolded slowly, as perfect Sundays should, with everything put to one side, so we could enjoy being together again. A trip to a pumpkin patch is a tradition we embraced in Seattle and as we walked across the fields to a local farm, we fondly recalled the fun we had at the patch we visited just north of Seattle, with its corn pit, trampolines, hay barn maze, giant slides, duck races, tractor rides, spiced apple donuts and pulled pork sandwiches. Pumpkin patches are rare here and Autumn is ushered in much more quietly in the U.K. Yet we still love the small patch just across the fields from our home, with the fun games set up between the rows of strawberry plants, like the spoon and spud race and potato skittles (bowling). There were only a few other families at the patch, a thankful change from the hordes of people with whom we shared our favourite Washington state patch. As the girls and I completed this years squash mystery (who stole the pumpkins for the annual carving competition), Jon dozed in the sunshine between the raspberry vines, his red-eye from Boston finally catching up with him. Ultimately, the most important part of the pumpkin patch experience, is the choosing of the pumpkins, and oh, it always takes such a very long time to find the perfect pumpkin. This year there were size constraints too since we were carrying them home on our backs! Yet, despite picking quite a large pumpkin, A determinedly settled the backpack on her shoulders and refused any help from Jon or I.
