now and then

pumpkin hunting

Though slightly scarred from last year's debacle, we were inspired by the invitation of our neighbors to brave Sauvie's Island again for another go at finding the perfect pumpkin.

In true toddler form Lucy definitely had the most fun redirecting traffic cones and playing in the puddles while waiting for the hayride. The actual hayride was pretty fun, and she was kind of over it by the time we actually made it out to the field of pumpkins.

There were so many pumpkins! Still attached to their greenery! In a nice foggy field that in some directions looked almost deserted and creepy! And I dressed her in the closest approximation of the pumpkin field picture from youth that I could, so Mama at least was having a fun time.

After lots of walking we managed to find a pumpkin that was small and didn't have dirt on it, which were Lucy's two basic specifications, and that had a stem that wasn't rotting, which was my requirement.

Success!

the pumpkin patch

There is a picture in Lucy's room of me, about two years old, standing with my mom in a pumpkin patch. Pumpkin in hand, I am clad in a faux-shearling vest, red sweatpants, and a knit cap; my mom smiles in the background behind me as we both look at the camera. There may be a fog or it may just be the effects of time on the Polaroid film, but in any case there is an aura of autumnal crispness, of cold ground and rosy cheeks, of spook and joy.

Ever since I stole that picture out of my baby book and put it in a frame for Lucy's room, I've been looking forward to re-creating that moment with my own baby girl. Last year she was too small, and hated cars too much--we didn't even attempt the drive to Sauvie Island because I knew after a screaming car ride in one direction I would be hard pressed to ever want to get back in the car to come home.

This year seemed promising, with Lucy walking and running and interested in everything, and loving boots and playing outside, so when Shaggy's parents were here we planned a trip to the Pumpkin Patch. It was a beautiful Saturday, and I think that was our first mistake--my parents called while we were still on our way to say that the line to get over the bridge started about a mile back and moved very very slowly. We were still feeling game (some of us more than others), but as the minutes dragged on, and we talked again to my parents (who had now been in the stop-and-go traffic for about 50 minutes and still hadn't made it to the farm), we abandoned course.

I was convinced that the pumpkin-hunting outfit I'd picked out for Lucy shouldn't be in vain, so we decided to check out the apple festival at Portland Nursery instead. It was crowded but fun, and there were free samples of fresh pressed apple cider, which was delicious. Lucy got to paint a mini-pumpkin and color for awhile with her Poppa.

The next day, daunted but set on my photo op, we decided to try again, but this time we thought we'd head out to Sherwood where the farm might be less crowded. It was less crowded in that there wasn't an hour-long line to get to the farm, though there was still a wait to get on the tractor-pulled wagon to take you out to the pumpkin patch. We arrived to a disappointment: the field was not filled with rows of pumpkin plants, leaves covering up pumpkin gems like a treasure hunt; instead, all the pumpkins had been trucked over from the field where they were grown, then thrown haphazardly onto a flat expanse of mowed grass and mud. Kids were milling about, trying to make a choice between nearly identical orange globes. It felt like a deconstructed shopping experience, like the farm was just a grocery store dressed up as a farm for Halloween.

 There was no room for delight, no sense of discovery; the people that seemed to be having the most fun were the day-laborers tossing the pumpkins down from the truck assembly-line style for placement on the barren field.

I know there is some sort of lesson here about not trying to recreate your own childhood, or going with the flow, or living in the moment, avoiding outsized expectations, or not designing experiences around photo opportunities. And really, Lucy didn't seem to care one way or the other, but I was really bummed out, like I had been tricked into paying $4 for a fake experience. Next year we're setting our criteria in advance:

1. Must not take more than half an hour to arrive, including time to drive and park. (I will extend this potentially to 45 minutes for something that involves hay rides and hot cider, but no more than 3 minutes can be spent fighting crowds or in stop and go traffic. 
2. Must offer the pumpkins for selection in the fields where they are grown.

I think next year we either go to Sauvie Island on a Tuesday morning or I'll just have to convince my parents to grow their own pumpkins.