a-mazing

The pumpkins are ripe for the picking, and we had a free weekend morning. Off to the pumpkin patch we galumphed.

This particular patch isn't far from home, which has made it the ideal spot for birthday parties and punkin selecting for many years.

One of the highlights is a corn maze. You know the kind..."Enter at your own risk" declared on the sign on the perimeter. We love it. About five minutes into the maze - husband off one direction, son the other - it struck me just how lovely consistency can be. That is to say, sometimes consistency is a pain in the ass. You know the kind - one more day, one more dollar; same old same old. But, every once in a while, consistency is a blessed ease of comfort. Like annually returning to this particular hub of pumpkiny festivities.

We anticipated a sequence of events that we relish participating in, but forget about until we set foot in the gravely parking lot. First, we'll take pictures at the cutouts where we stick our faces through and make grimaces of all fashions. (These make amusing calendar pages from year to year.) Then, we'll race about the hay maze, playing tag, hiding, shrieking with enjoyment. Then, we'll take on the corn maze, each of us boasting that he or she will be victorious in finding the exit before the others. And, finally, we'll deliberate in selecting the best pumpkins, already envisioning the jack-o-lanterns we'll carve from them.

But, at the moment of this shot, I was reminded of a more subtle shade of the consistency I love on these autumn outings. It's the quiet of the maze. The way the corn stalks miniaturize me. The flutter in the tummy when the sensation of "lost" creeps over. Every year.

So, now evidence of our adventure (and successful conquering of the maze) sit happily, orange-ly, on our front steps. And, we've got a "roll" of memories captured.