The Perfect Pumpkin

Nate woke up this morning with one thing on his mind: he was determined to find the perfect pumpkin for our annual carving contest. Even though Halloween is still a couple of weeks away, Nate didn't want to risk the travesty of having all the good ones taken. So with mist swirling at the base of the mountains and a light rain falling, we bundled up the kids and prepared to wade through the mud in search of the perfect pumpkin.

Nate drove around west Farmington in search of the illusive pumpkin patch he remembered from his childhood. After about 20 minutes of driving around accompanied by an occasional, "it's gotta be around here somewhere" muttering, we found a pumpkin patch that allowed us to go pick our own pumpkin off the vine. Before we even made it into the fields, we had to peek at all the weird and unusual rejects from the squash family. This one was Nate's favorite because of an uncanny resemblance to a certain body part. And of course, Bryn was smitten with the "sweet little Baby Hudson" pumpkin. 

Once we finally made it out into the fields, Bryn and I walked around trying to minimize the amount of mud that clung to our shoes. Little Miss Independent was determined to find her own pumpkin and wanted to put it in the cart herself. However, this idea was quickly abandoned when she realized that the bottom of the pumpkin was covered in mud. 

Bryn and I were not having much luck in finding the perfect pumpkin. Just when we thought we had found "the one," the pumpkin inevitably had some type of deformity or odd discoloration. The boys, however, had much better luck. Nate was like a bloodhound and somehow managed to find the most beautiful, perfectly shaped pumpkins. He found not one, not two, but all four of our pumpkins. The downside to this was that Bryn and I had to listen to him brag about his great finds for the rest of the afternoon. . . but in his defense, they were perfect. Now they just need to stay perfect until we carve them in a week.