Saturday marked my first trip to a pumpkin patch in many, many years. I always have an incredible nostalgic yearning for all of the things I did when I was small, and the pumpkin patch was no exception. To finally get to go was just as exciting as I hoped it would be.
The boyfriend was far less picky with his pumpkin selection than I. Determined to find just the right one, we wound up in quite an ambitious trek around the length of farm patch. Eventually, I settled on one (which I named Philip), only for his stem to break off. No other pumpkins compared, and I came to overlook this handicap and take him home anyway.
The patch we went to had a petting zoo, bakery, and a pig show. But despite the tempting food options, such as fresh corn, we skipped eating at the farm and made our way to an adorable 1950s Diner.
It was a supremely lovely afternoon.
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Dear Janelle,
Blah. Blah. Blah.
With love,
Me.