The Great Pumpkin (Patch)
2004-10-15, 1:56 p.m.

It�s Pumpkin Patch day!

I went to Son�s school at 8:15 to follow the buses to Maple Lane Farm, for the hayride and pumpkin� pickin and general freeze-your-arse-off morning of fun. It was a typical field trip, meaning the bus drivers chose the most convoluted route to get there, it threatened to rain, and after last week�s fine weather it suddenly decided to turn COLD. Cold, by the way, Southern variety means under 60 degrees. It�s currently 51. BRRR

At Son�s school, older kids are paired up with younger ones as part of the Dynabuddy program. Today�s trip was also the Dynabuddy outing. Son�s Dynabuddy is Very Intelligent Woman�s adorable little boy, who was kind enough to choose a pumpkin that he could carry (and would fit in his teacher-supplied GROCERY BAG). Son (with a teacher �supplied GARBAGE BAG) picked one nearly larger than himself, most likely simply because he could force Mom to tote it. Plus, he had to fill up his bag. I chose one the same size so that I would be counterbalanced. No sense in having a whopper in one arm and a squirt in the other, forcing me to lurch caddywhompers through the field.

All along the hayride we were on the lookout for Oreo the cow. He�s solid black except for a perfect white band around his middle, hence the PAINFULLY OBVIOUS moniker. No glimpse of him today. Maybe next time. We enjoyed instead the fields brimming with pumpkins, morning glories intertwining the pumpkin vines, the patches of sunflowers, and the tall green corn that comprises the Maize. All this was viewed while peeping out from hooded jackets like so many yuppie Eskimos. The few sensible ones, of which I am not part, brought blankets for huddling. Instead, my nose is froze and my toes is froze and Son just hunkered down in his jacket like a turtle in his shell. Dynabuddy was too wound up to be cold, and chattered away about how he�s six years old and where did we live when he was three and dead pumpkins (the rotten ones) and coyotes and what is a werewolf, exactly and the cow pond is really a big pumpkin field that flooded and the tractors might get stuck and can he really bring home one of the barn cats like the man said and he�s going to make a scary jack o�lantern just like the scary music that goes oooooOOOOOOOooooo and has trumpets and bass and did I know what a bass is and it�s really big and he is learning to play the violin.

Dynabuddy was a bit excited about the field trip.

Back at school, it was time for the now-thank-goodness indoor picnic. We took our lunches to Dynabuddy�s classroom to eat. $3.50 for a hot dog, applesauce, 4 carrot sticks, and a small bag of Doritos. Oh yes, and a carton containing about 3 tablespoons of milk. I was so hungry I ate the carrot sticks, not a standard part of my repertoire. Raw carrots, without the disguising benefit of ranch dressing, have a taste reminiscent of a dirt clod. But eat them I did, feeling low-carbingly proud of myself and praying they would negate the effects of the hot dog and chips. I�m enjoying deluding myself, thank you, and will get back on the South Beach wagon later today. Besides, I was able to fit into the foot-high plastic kindergarten chair in the classroom, which gave me a sizeable (no pun intended) ego boost. Well, it�s not the sitting that�s difficult normally, but the extraction from said chair when time to stand. I was able to get up without rupturing anything important, and the chair did not have little splayed metal legs but was left fully intact. That spells victory in my book.

So I�m home, the pumpkins are on the front stoop, and I�m doing my best to thaw. Monday afternoon marks yet another trip out there, this time for Daughter�s Science Club field trip to do some orienteering in the Maize. I�ll be smarter then and bring a heavier coat. Watch it turn sunny and 80 degrees if I do.

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