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Pumpkin Picking Times Gone By//October. 24th, 2020

 With the way things are in the world this year, things like visiting a pumpkin patch to do some real, genuine pumpkin picking have been difficult. 

The farms in my area that I would normally frequent, all require reservations this year, and with my work schedule and life in general, that complicates things.

But for some reason, lately, I find my mind drifting to the pumpkin picking days of my early childhood.

My mother didn’t like the crowds (or the pricing) at the biggest farm near us, and, being so shy and timid despite my love for Halloween, as a young child I didn’t really have much interest in participating in things like corn mazes and haunted barns.

So, my mother would take me to a much smaller farm, closer to home, called L&L Farms. 

The building still stands today, but I don’t think it does much business, if any at all. I would love to take some pictures of it, but it’s most definitely private property and the entrance is usually roped off. It’s overgrown, rundown, and dismal. Honestly, it was always a little sad and melancholy compared to the two farms down the road from it that were alive with such hustle and bustle every weekend in October, but looking back on it, that was part of its charm.

L&L was always quiet. It never tried too hard to be anything more than a quaint little place to buy pumpkins, and maybe a small selection of other farm fare. I have such a district memory of the cider smell inside that dingy, almost creepy barn.

They always had handmade decorations up. A witch flying past the moon adorned the main part of their pumpkin patch, and would become one of the most memorable images of my childhood Halloweens. A huge wooden cutout of an old Western prospector urged those of us who’d come looking for pumpkins to “stake your claim”. Up in the window of the barn, there were painted panels of a black cat and a ghost. 

For such a tiny place that never did much business, it was clearly run by people who had a passion for Halloween, and made a valiant effort to encourage fellow lovers of the season to pick their pumpkins there.

That passion, combined with the slight eeriness of such a quiet, almost sad, little place, made it so that I never felt disappointed about going to L&L over one of the more “fun” farms. 

I think of that place, and I can still see myself running excitedly, carrying as many tiny “Jack Be Little” pumpkins as my allowance would permit me to purchase, as I took in the sights, sounds, and smells of a tiny business that, like a skeleton in his grave, was deteriorating more and more every time I visited. 



It’s a bittersweet memory, but one I’m happy to have.

Stay spooky, my friends.

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