Well, my bloggie frens, I kind of went over my budget and my minimalist idea to get just a single pumpkin this year. I actually have five of them, ranging in size from (and these are the scientific terms for punkin sizes, or as punkins are termed in pig Latin, "unkinpays"): Teenincy to small.
The teeniest are actually not punkins, nor pumpkins. They are a gourd, but everyone thinks they are pumpkins. I'm not going to tell them they are not pumpkins! Who would have the heart?
So I have two tiny pumpkins - ahem - one little pumpkin, and two small pie pumpkins (not shown) destined to be baked up into dog treats.
Where did the three smallest ones come from? Were they a gift? Yes, I gave them to myself. They came from the agricultural students' test gardens. I went back over there. They came from the MUD in the test garden. I could feel them under my flip flops. I went foot-fishing for gourds.
You know you live in the desert when...you have "dress" flip flops, and "regular" flip flops. Thank goodness I didn't have my fanciest flip flops on! Please excuse the state of my feet; I have no excuse except to say the desert is hard on the feet.
Shown: Fancy flip flops, suitable for interviews. These are pretty rare in that both glitter AND fake fur are present.
The entire test garden is now knocked down and plowed under! All the pretty corn plants and the tomatoes that had so many ripe fruits! Oh, those silly students! I wish I had gotten a corn stalk when I had the chance. Grrr. Only the itty-bittyest of the pumpkins-slash-gourds escaped the tractor. Sounds like a horror movie for vegetables: The Day the Tractor Came.
It really was a bit horrifying, because once I got home and set the purloined pumpkin on the mantel, FIVE BIG ANTS came out of a hole in the stem. I screamed, forgetting the size differential between myself and the ants.
I have been unable to locate the ant family.
Later, we drove by the Sprouts natural food market, because they have the strangest pumpkins in town. [Author's note: Is anyone still reading this? ha ha] They were a bit out of my budget, but the pie pumpkins were not. I have not altered the colors in the photo of one of their big cardboard boxes of pumpkins. Such strange pumpkins!
And the flesh-colored ones didn't even look real. They looked like styrofoam or plastic! Very odd.
When I used to drive my husband around, he would get out with me and go look at something. Then, he began getting out maybe every other stop. Then, he stopped getting out most rides. Now, he almost never gets out. The doctors are finally trying to find out why he's gotten so weak. In the meantime, I got the idea to take photos of things I see, and then he looks on the camera and sees the sights, while we are still parked.
I showed him the pie pumpkin bin. I took the photo and then went and asked him which to pick, which I thought was really sweet and inclusive of me:
And he said, "I don't give a BLEEP, get whatever BLEEP pumpkins you want, you ditzy BLEEP. You're the pumpkin maniac, not me."
Aw, did you think it was going to be a heartwarming story? NO! He has to rein me in sometimes, when I try to make life into a low-budget Hallmark Romantic Mystery or what have you.
Continuing our drive, I spotted a sign that said "Pumpkins." I didn't need more pumpkins, but still, the sign did say Pumpkins and the siren song of the pumpkin is difficult to resist. Diagnosis: Punkin Fevah. I followed the road the arrow pointed down -- for miles -- then another little handmade sign -- miles -- and another -- miles -- and another -- miles -- then a really big sign, pointing down an unpaved road!
Someone has a farmstand and a lot of pumpkins, ristras, gourds, and so forth! It was very cute and had a play area for kids. It was in what I'd call a "farming family" compound near the Rio Grande. Just a modest area. I was very surprised when my husband got out of the car and then walked slowly over to me, giving me a $20 to spend. I think he regretted calling me a Ditzy Bleep. No, he didn't regret it. Yippee! I was like a kid with her allowance, and I bought another ristra, this one to go in his room. He was very pleased, and surprised I didn't go for a bleeping pumpkin. But the smell of chiles drying is just incomparable and I know he loves it! It's almost a honey scent.
Shown: Bleeping Pumpkins (scientific name, Unkinpays bleepibleeps)
I hope you enjoyed going along with me on my aimless drive (with gas at $4 a gallon) into the World of Pumpkins.
I hope you have a wonderful week! Many blog friends are having medical problems, or their loved ones are. You are in my prayers.
Kind regards,
Holly, the Olde Dame