Intern Chick

When I was growing up, every October my family and I would go to a pumpkin patch and pick out pumpkins to carve.  Everyone got their own pumpkin, and I would always try to find the most perfect pumpkin there, and my dad taught me the stem was just as important as the pumpkin, because it needed to be sturdy for when you pulled off the top.  It would always be a beautiful New England autumn day and the smell of changing leaves always reminds me of that.  In New York, I think they think you get pumpkins at the grocery store.  I walked past one of those trees they put in the sidewalk tonight, and it had pumpkins all around it, was that a city pumpkin patch??  There were no perfect ones in there.  That's for sure.

Back to the suburbs....I remember going on a hay ride afterwards one time which was even better.  We'd take our pumpkins home, line the kitchen table with newspaper and put a huge stainless steal bowl in the middle of the table.  We'd take out all the pumpkin guts and put the seeds in the bowl.  One of the few times a year my mom cooked, she would salt the seeds and bake them, and then I would bring them for snack to school (I was the weird kid).  While we carved our pumpkins the smell of the baking seeds would envelope our kitchen and be done by the time we'd lit candles inside the pumpkins and turned off all the lights in the house.  This was followed by the customary, "Ooohhhh," and "Aaahhhh."

And then the best part of trick-or-treating was being slightly frightened by going out into the dark, crisp night, down those long, suburban driveways in hunt of the best candy we could find.  I bet trick-or-treating in the city involves going out really early on lamp post lit blocks.

Every fall, once a year, we'd buy one container of apple cider.  It was just the perfect treat to have while snuggling under a blanket and watching Sunday football.  And at my day care, we would go on a field trip to a nearby apple orchard to pick apples and everyone got to eat one apple, which to a little kid, is really special, being able to pick your OWN apple and then eat it.

There's this great tree in my front yard and every year, the leaves turn into the brightest red before they fall onto my driveway and mix in with the other yellow orange and brown leaves.  Thats what I miss most.  That crisp smell of dried leaves, the gorgeous colors mixing together, and the sound of them crunching under my sneakers.

So laugh when I say I want to do something Halloween-y, or Autumn-y, or New England-y but nothing beats autumn in New England.  Nothing.