by Sharon Copeland

Created on: October 08, 2009

For my family Halloween is the kickoff to the holiday season. Fall feelings are in the air, Thanksgiving is right around the corner and Santa will soon be on his way to our house. To start the season right we have to go "hunt" for the perfect pumpkin.

We started this ritual when my son was very small. We have since had another child and our young son has turned into a dreaded teenager. Teenagers are funny creatures because they still enjoy the holiday traditions, but they don't want you to know it. I used to think that dragging a stroller through the mulch with a howling toddler tucked inside was a challenge. That was nothing compared to how it is now.

We used to have a nice pumpkin patch near our house, but that is now a "Las Vegas" themed bowling alley. That is great for the die hard bowlers, but now not only do we have to hunt for the pumpkin we have to hunt for the patch too. I usually scour the paper for any advertisements for local patches. I usually get lucky to find one or two, but they are usually about an hour away. Hey, what is an hour though right? This pumpkin hunting is serious business for us.

We usually go after dinner when it starts to get dark. It helps set the Halloween mood and it is also suppose to be cooler. We live in the South and there is nothing worse than piling into the car with a bunch of sweaty pumpkin hunters. We know we are hunting for three pumpkins. Why three you ask? Both kids need their own pumpkin because they always have different opinions on what kind of "face" it should have. I love to dig the guts out and since the kids won't share, I have to get my own.

We drive through the parking lot scoping out our space. All eyes are staring out the window, noses plastered to the glass to see if we can spot our pumpkins before we even step out of the car. My son tries to act like he could care less about some stupid ole pumpkin, but I see his eyes plastered to the glass just like the rest of us. Once out of the car, my husband and son walk one way and my daughter and I walk the other. We want to cover as much ground as we can before someone else grabs our pumpkin.

Across the lot I see my guys. My son has his finger pointed at something towards the middle of the patch. I look at my daughter who is also pointing at something in the same direction. With dismay I realize they are pointing at the same pumpkin. They lock eyes and realize they have both spotted the same pumpkin. My son, who has very long legs, jumps over several crates of pumpkins on his way to the orange prize first. My daughter tries to set off in a sprint and ends up face first in the straw because she stumbled over a crate full of pumpkins. They both argue over the pumpkin, then they both decide it isn't the 'one' and they move on in separate directions.

This goes on for a short time and we all finally find our own perfect pumpkin. We put our treasures on the floor of the front seat. We don't want our pumpkins to turn into pumpkin pie in the trunk. As we drive home, sweat pouring down my face, I smile thinking that these days are coming to an end. With the kids getting older, how much longer will they want to hunt for pumpkins? As we turn the corner to our house, the pumpkins rolling over my toes, I realize that I still enjoy hunting pumpkins just as much as the kids do. I someday hope to be a pumpkin hunting grandmother. Next season I think I will drive though. Those rolling pumpkins hurt.

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