Day 8.

We all know what is going to happen here, don’t we?

As I stare out at the vast array of pumpkins showing off under the blue sky and autumnal sun, it really is quite obvious.

The search for the perfect pumpkin ensues.

Cinerella
Casper white
Jack O’ Lantern
Sweet Dumpling
Galeux d’ Eysines
Jarrahdale

No matter what type you are into –
more than likely, the goal is to find the most perfect specimen in the patch.

And as I strolled and hovered and scrutinized, this is what I discovered::

unnamed-1

and

unnamed-2
.
I stood over them for quite some time, honestly.
To my surprise, I found myself resonating with
misshapen,
rotting,
deformed
pumpkins.

And my inner soul proclaimed,
“these are my pumpkins!”

Somewhere, in the chronicles of time, Fall Harvest and the celebration thereof became capitalism and marketing and the pursuit of the
perfect
pumpkin
to sit and rot
on the front steps
of one’s home.

Of course, in all altruism, we grab one or two for Johnny and Jeannie to carve, or these days, thanks to Pinterest,
we download and trace the “ultimate”
design to adorn our perfect pumpkin,
all the while –

this guy

unnamed-4

remains
back
at the
Patch.

Imperfect and riddled with rot,
yet a survivor that came to full fruit despite the odds.

The former is what is seen, yet the latter is what matters.

The former is what is SEEN,

yet

the
LATTER
is
what
MATTERS.

One thought on “Day 8.

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