Fall was late to the party.

We love tradition in our house. If we do something once to celebrate a season or a holiday, chances are we’ll do the same thing until we kick the bucket.

There are probably upwards of twenty five pumpkin patches and festivals within a thirty minute drive of our home. We still go to the same one we stumbled across when Alex was five months old. We wound up at this patch by accident. We were looking for a much larger farm/orchard and made a wrong turn. Tradition dictates we’ll never leave.

The patch now has a Pumpkin Festival that runs every weekend in October. There is a stage with a revolving group of bluegrass musicians, which I happen to LOVE. There are giant tricycles to ride, areas full of corn to scoop with Tonka trucks, hayrides, “cows” to “milk,” pumpkins to decorate, face painters…you get the idea. If it has to do with Fall in the Midwest--land of tradition-- they have it. Brandon would go solely for the fresh apple cinnamon donuts.

We look forward to the pumpkin patch all year, and I was afraid we might not make it this year. It was ridiculously hot the first part of the month, and the thought of the kids wearing shorts on the hayride made me itch. When I heard there was a possibility of frost this weekend, I knew we’d be set.
The kids ran from one thing to another and had a great time.

Meredith got really into decorating her pumpkin this year. She glued all kinds of stuff to it, brought the pumpkin home, and promptly picked off all the junk and left it on the kitchen table. Alex was in charge of steering us through the corn maze and let’s just say it’s a good thing Brandon was with us and really in charge. I can’t read a regular map, let alone one that involves corn cut in the shape of a cowboy.