Local Produce

The last of the yellow and russet leaves danced across the road in front of my car, as I drove to Imwalle Produce in search of a pumpkin, and the newly bared branches of the trees stretch themselves skyward for the meager warmth of the sun.

The sliding doors on the old barn are all the rage in home decor just now. We have one that separates our closet and master bathroom from our bedroom. Ours works exactly the same way this one does, but it is made of polished and wood and an industrial looking metal slide which makes it seem like a bit of an afterthought. The only time we ever close it is when Blake is here so he won't drink out of the toilet. I prefer the 'real' rustic ones that are actually on barn doors.It seems appropriate to note that the flag is in a bit of a knot just now....

I watched people working in the field just beyond my parking spot at this (very) local produce place. Despite the blue sky, it was quite chilly even after a Pilates class and an Aztec mocha with my friend Nancy. The young man behind the counter was well bundled up in hat, jacket and scarf as no sun penetrated the open sales space. He gave me the pumpkin because "Halloween was awhile ago". 

I didn't tell him that some people do make pumpkin pie for Thanksgiving from scratch, but I think they taste much better made with the canned kind. It seems a simple process to make pie, and even pie crust, but I have never had very consistent results, so I'm leaving the job to Peter who is taking a culinary class in high school this year.

The pumpkin will figure in my Thanksgiving decor as the cast of characters begins to assemble on Friday. I might roast the seeds, but the slimy, stringy insides will go in the compost.