Fall Staple

Every year around the middle of September, I start to think about the pumpkin patch. And by “think about the pumpkin patch” I mean “obssess about and talk non-stop about the moment when I will be AT the pumpkin patch.”

When I was younger, we’d go to Rombach Farms. My great-aunt and uncle owned the farm and pumpkin patch just outside of St. Louis and going there each fall was a serious treat. We’d sit in the giant pile of pumpkins and get our pictures taken, we’d go through the field and pick out the biggest, most perfectly shaped pumpkins we could find, we’d walk through the barns and drink hot chocolate. Magic, I tell you.
Though I haven’t been back to Aunt Maggie’s farm in a while, I still get the itch to go to a pumpkin patch every year. Since living in Nashville, we’ve been to Gentry’s Farm in Franklin each fall. I’m fairly certain that I’m the most excited to go every year out of all the kids I’ve gone with.
These are my friends, the Griffins. They’re awesome. Maybe even more awesome than the pumpkin patch. Maybe.

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