It is approaching fall again; crisp mornings, daylight savings time, Halloween. Last weekend, we took Corey for our annual pilgrimage to the Great Country Farm
. Ordinarily, the farm is a co-op and provides its members with weekly deliveries of home-grown produce. However, during the month of the October, they have a wonderful fall celebration which includes a petting zoo, pumpkin picking, rope swings, and our favorite, pig races.
The farm is located in Bluemont, VA and lies on the edge of the Shenandoah Mountains, amongst trees with rust colored leaves and two lane highways dotted with the carcasses of dead raccoons and deer. The drive takes us about 90 minutes. Last year, while Corey napped in the back seat, Larry looked over and inquired, “Didn’t we rent a get-away cabin out here a few years ago?”
We usually spend the day with three other families and each year it gets better. Last year, we all picnicked and fed a brood of 12 kids. This year, the kids ran off while the adults had a wine and cheese party. Next year, we are contemplating just giving the car keys to the kids and going for a spa weekend.
Corey loves it there and now that he’s older, he’s able to do more things. The other kids take him along on all activities, and frankly, we can go hours before we see him. The rule is, if he needs to pee, call us. Luckily, he’s been blessed with an extremely strong bladder.
The last activity of the afternoon was picking our pumpkins. All of us climbed onto the hay ride to head out to the pumpkin patch. (It seems my spouse has an allergy to hay, so he volunteered to close down the wine & cheese party; convenient, huh?) The field is exactly what you’d expect; countryside dotted with beautifully round, orange pumpkins and cornucopia-gourds. It truly is an amazing site.
So we pulled to a stop and everyone went barreling into the field to get their pumpkins. Like the good father I am, I let my son dawdle in the field, picking up bugs and guts from fallen pumpkins.
Everywhere, parents are working with their kids to find just the right pumpkin; the one that will adorn their front stoop with pride and send the message: a happy child lives here.
As we make our way back to the hay bales, I have two giantatic pumpkins in tow; each the perfect size and color to send the message: a creative and artistic gay man lives here.
My friend Karen looks over and says, “Um, didn’t you have a child with you when you went out?”“Crap… I did. Be right back.”
We returned and this time I had two fabulous pumpkins AND
the kid. We sat next to a wonderful family who each had a pumpkin. During our brief conversation, they asked Corey if he was excited to carve his two pumpkins. He nodded yes.
The poor little guy; he had no idea that these pumpkins, which I struggled to find just the right size and shade of orange, were fated to be the perfect compliments to our new mums. Sad how life dishes out such disappointments. Fortunately, a box of Goldfish Crackers solves anything.
The little guy will get his carving pumpkin next week when he visits another farm with his moms. He is honestly more excited about the trick-or-treating than the carving of large vegetables. He finally understands the concept that going up to a stranger’s door and eating the food they dispense is okay… at least for that day.
We were going to have his dress up as “Dash Incredible,” but he has decided The Incredibles are bad. So he’s going to be fireman. “He is totally in love with firemen right now,”
one of his moms said.
Is it totally creepy that I understand exactly how he feels?