Southerners are our own breed of people, especially when it comes to Fall. October 1st, you can start spotting people in boots and long sleeves, just trying to make Fall happen. They are a brave kind of people, appropriately dressed in the morning, sweating to death in the afternoon, all in the name of fashion. We love our pictures in front of cotton fields, enough porch decorations to be seen from space, pumpkin flavored everything, and taking the kids to a pumpkin patch.
Over the weekend, Sassy and I went pumpkin picking at Old Baker Farm with some friends. It was one of those perfect mornings, where you walk outside and the crisp cool air hits your face.
I break out my boots and a comfy jacket, I FINALLY get to wear my comfy fall clothes.
We arrive at the farm and I’m noticing less of that perfect crisp cool air. We start walking, passing the vendors selling southern staples like BBQ, homemade kettle corn, monogrammed ornaments, and sweet tea.
The kids get their pictures made in front of corn stalks, hay bales, pumpkins, and of course cotton.
The farm had a large trailer with picked cotton in it for the kids to play in. You saw every kid struggling to get their shoes off as fast as humanly possible, so they didn’t waste one more second not playing in that cotton.
Kids are weird.
Sassy was running around in the cotton yelling “It’s wet cot-tun, but I love it”.
She rode a horse for the first time. Stepped in horse poop for the first time too.
We then spent 15-20 minutes digging though troughs of corn kernels for 5 golden ones so she could get a piece of candy. The kernels are already gold. I would have enjoyed spotting the hot pink kernel a little more.
I feel like this is another Southern thing. We sit on large bales of hay while being pulled through the woods by a tractor. It’s better than walking, since the crisp cool air lasted for the duration of the car ride to the farm. There were pools of my sweat in my boots. I was actively melting.
The hayride took us to the pumpkin patch, where we could walk around and pick out our pumpkins. For some reason, my kid kept wanting the ones that were either rotting, or 42 pounds. Luckily, I was able to find one that landed her approval, and I could easily carry. She named it Ted.
Everywhere you look, you saw smiling faces. Most of us were miserable in our boots and sweaters, slowly melting away, but we were still smiling. It’s hard not to smile when you are surrounded by a horde of children having the time of their lives. The vendors were smiling from watching all of the kids experiencing pure joy.
Us Southerners may be a little weird, but all the best people are.
Here’s to hoping Fall really does happen soon, and that everyone finds the perfect pumpkin.
Ted is already taken.