“The Pumpkin”–A Poem and Memory Celebrating Fall

Happy Fall, readers! Since the autumnal equinox was yesterday, it’s official. šŸ™‚ I hope you had a fun Hobbit Day and continue to celebrate through Tolkien Week. My family did indeed go mini-golfing as planned, which was lots of fun. We were very careful and checked the whole course before putting, because you know what they say about hobbits andĀ holes in the ground. šŸ˜‰

When the weather started to turn more autumnal here, I had a sudden flashback of a fall memory from several years ago (2008, to be precise). It came back to me as a poem, as flashbacks (luckily!) often do for me, since I record memories in words, writing the world in my head as I see it.

This is a memory from a time when a group of our friends from UIUC went to a nearby apple orchard. Jeremiah and I were in the same group, and we had dated before but weren’t dating at the time (yet). šŸ˜‰

I wanted to save the poem to share with you until it was officially fall. I hope it’s not too sappy-sweet, but then, it is the season for maple syrup and sweetened gourds of a certain variety–which will star in the poem today. šŸ™‚

I wanted to share a few photos from that day, too.

The group with some of our spoils (Jeremiah’s doing the American Gothic on the very left, and I’m on the very right).

This was surely meant for little kids, but that didn’t stop us from joining in the fun. It required some intense crouching.

Ripe for the picking!

But this is what I was really excited about, as you’ll read below (the pumpkins, not the modest-afterthought statue).

TheĀ Pumpkin

By: Amanda K. Fowler
I knew you loved me when
we went with friends to an apple orchard,
but I wanted aĀ pumpkin
so you followed me toĀ theĀ rows of orange gourds.
They’d already been picked,
because crops were bad that year,
but you spent hours with me,
looking at each one,
turning them over and over.
I saw every curved side
underneath your hands.
We feltĀ theĀ dirt coatĀ theĀ skin
like afterbirth,
and I think
we imagined
they were babies,
and we had to findĀ theĀ one
that was ours.
TheĀ sun made
our shadows long,
and I grew discouraged,
andĀ theĀ others were far away
wagons and bellies
full of apples.
But then you found it:
ourĀ pumpkinĀ baby.
It was huge,
and healthy,
and bright.
You brushedĀ theĀ dirt off
and showed me how
it had a flat side
from where it lay
while it grew againstĀ theĀ earth,
and it would be perfect
for my carving,
you said.
I loved it,
and you looked smaller
underĀ theĀ weight
ofĀ theĀ behemoth gourd,
but you never struggled
or grunted,
just carriedĀ theĀ pumpkin
toĀ theĀ register
and then the car,
gingerly,
protectively.
And whenĀ theĀ others teased you
about looking atĀ pumpkinsĀ all day,
you just smiled.
I never carved it;
it was already perfect.
And I knew I loved you then.
———————————————————————————–
I hope you enjoyed the poem. Now, I’m itching to go back to an orchard! What’s on your fall celebration list? šŸ™‚
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7 thoughts on ““The Pumpkin”–A Poem and Memory Celebrating Fall

  1. Pingback: Top Ten Tuesday: Most Outrageous Book Bans | Jelly-Side Up

    • What a coincidence! Did you have a good time? I live a little farther away from Curtis, now, but I have great memories from there. šŸ™‚
      Thank you very much for the compliment and the follow! šŸ™‚

      Like

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  3. Pingback: Book-’O-Lanterns! | Jelly-Side Up

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