Thinking of pie ...

So Teen Girl and I wandered into Pier 1 today and bought some candles that smell like spice cake. And that reminded me that we hadn't stopped at the local pumpkin patch in, oh, about eight years ~ not since she was in kindiegarten and I was one of the carpool moms. It's crazy that just because the kids grow up and move out (two in college now ... sniff sniff) we halt traditions, such as wading through hay and dirt to find the perfect pumpkin to grace our doorstep.

And so while out shopping for clothes that we never did find, we took the scenic route home along corn-dusted farms and leafy fields that stretch nearly to the sea. I love these roads, just a long stone's throw from our beachy neighborhood. By the number of cars entering the makeshift, dirt parking lots, so do our neighbors and visitors.

The big guy in the seat belt looked pretty lonesome out there in the patch surrounded by fashionable plus-sized gourds, their round bellies protruding like giant swim rings ~ and we were both smitten. He has personality, we said. The guy at the wooden check-out shack called him, "lanky." What started out as a hunt through a vast pumpkin patch turned out to be a quick trip when we spotted this big guy and brought him home.

Here's to new seasons that resurrect old traditions. Have a beachy week, my friends ~ wherever you are ...