We set off in search of punkins today. Me with my skinny vanilla latte (which say, aren't half bad!), Steve in his wool socks, and Wugs, well Wugs miraculously agreed to leave her purple rubber frog and the remote control to a toy car in our actual car.
Wugs found two punkins right off the bat. The girl knows what she wants! A green curvy gourd and a unique orange and green stripey one. Then once we had loaded them onto our wagon, those two punkins had to come out at each and every stop. At the teepee, at the spot where Steve found the granddaddy punkin, tossed onto a random couch (couches in teepees! Yes! Did I mention this was the hottest day of the year for northern California?), onto haystacks where we stopped to again rest. Punkin picking is intense, guys.
Did I mention it was hot out? And why was my husband wearing wool socks?
In the end, though, we wagoned out of there with a good loot of nine. And only one of us got sunburned--not the little person wearing moccasins, thankfully.
How I love our punkin patch tradition.
(Here's Mila's first and second visit. And after seeing those, my heart has had all it can take right now.)