It was the pumpkin wagons that pulled me in. I just couldn’t resist the look of wooden wagons loaded with pumpkins.
Mark said we brought our children here a few times. And although I remember many years of visiting pumpkin festivals and pumpkin farms, I don’t have a clear memory of this exact place.
In the past we focused all our efforts on finding the perfect pumpkins, sometimes out in a field where they dotted the land from their decaying vines.
Yesterday I focused on the vibrant colors. All the colorful mums, variegated gourds, and bright orange pumpkins saturated my vision—it was like when Dorothy stepped into Oz.
This particular farm does a top-notch job with displays that draw casual passers-by in, like ourselves.
Actually, we stopped here briefly the day before for some apples on our way home from the Fernald Preserve (more on this later). I was tired from shooting a lot of photos and didn’t even get out of the car, but the loaded wagons of pumpkins called me back.
So we brought Arthur this time, who thought he had died and gone to heaven.
Nature’s bounty is amazing. The small pumpkins and gourds fascinate me.
In addition to more apples, we left with a trunk full of mums and pumpkins. How could we resist?