Every few weeks a child pulled me to the garden patch, where we counted 1, 2, 3, 4….
By harvest we had 19 large pumpkins and dozens of the little tinies.
But then, after All-Hallows eve, they are shrunken, useless, pitiful. So we like to give them one last hurrah.
Up the stairs….
Through the attic access in the laundry room…
And to the top of the roof, where in a 2 minute barrage of flashing orange missiles they are tossed one by one to the driveway. Screams ring from above and below as each pumpkin transforms to squash.
And it doesn’t hurt that election day comes right on the heels of Halloween. Call it a celebration or a time to vent. Either way, it’s a smashing good time.
ready for next year