Discover the fun art of pumpkin picking 101 here in Wisconsin that is the perfect autumn activity for the whole family.
The Art to Pumpkin Picking 101
Supposedly, there’s a science to pumpkin picking. This year I’m on the hunt for the real deal. Not sure if I’m going to find it, but I’ll certainly give it a try.
I’ve always loved pumpkin picking. I can’t say when this began, but I know when my kids were young, I couldn’t help but feel their excitement with picking the perfect pumpkin.
To some diehards, the perfect pumpkin conveys the right color, shape, and size. But for me, it’s a personal quest for what I think fits my understanding:
It cannot be too big. Otherwise, I won’t be able to get it to the car.
It cannot be too small. Otherwise, I won’t be able to carve it properly.
It cannot be too old. Otherwise, the pumpkin won’t last until Halloween.
It cannot be too young. Otherwise, cutting it will be near impossible.
It cannot be too bumpy. Otherwise, the details won’t show up properly.
It cannot be too wobbly. Otherwise, it won’t stand up properly for display.
As you can see, I’m the discriminating sort. So maybe pumpkin picking is a personal thing. It’s not that I’ve chosen that poorly in the past. It’s just that this year, I want to choose the best one, just like Lucy did in the opening scene of “It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown.”
With sheer determination, I set out on my trek to find the PP (aka perfect pumpkin). As I wandered around the pumpkin patch, stepping carefully not to disturb the fragile vines, I scrutinize these orange globes, one by one.
VISIT: Basse’s Pumpkin Fest
So which pumpkin should I pick? I ask myself.
I know that I’ll need at least one to decorate (think pumpkin carving 101) and one to bake for pumpkin pie.
Not a one stood out as a contender.
Perhaps I’m working too hard at it. That’s it! I’m thinking like an adult. Sometimes, being too analytic can be detrimental to one’s creativity.
I decided to mosey back through the rows of endless pumpkin flesh one more time. Step by step, I was hopeful, I would find “the one.”
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Time seemed to edge on eternity, even though it was actually only a couple of minutes. Frustration was starting to set in. I just couldn’t find my pumpkin.
Sadly, I had to admit I was beat. So, I exited the field and walked over to the market stand to buy myself an apple cider donut.
As I waited, my eyes wandered over to an area that was cordoned off with hay bales.
Eureka! There before my weary eyes were the prettiest pumpkins of all! There stacked in no set fashion, were some of the roundest, freshest, and cleanest pumpkins one could imagine. I had found what I was looking for. And, I didn’t even have to travel far to my car. I had found my perfect pumpkin!
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