Friday, September 28, 2012

Fairytale Pumpkins

They might have been around forever, but I had never seen them before last year: Fairytale Pumpkins. 
Last year I stumbled across a wheel barrow full of them outside Trader Joe's, and this year, as I was rushing into Whole Foods to do some last minute shopping, there they were. 
It's the fact that I'm never looking for them when they first appear that make Fairytale Pumpkins so utterly magical. You're rushing through your day and all of a sudden, the sight of those lumpy, plump, vibrant and hilariously squat pumpkins that you're certain could be made into a horse-drawn carriage fit for a ball appear and you remember that enchantment is everywhere. Here in Charleston, where the coming of fall is announced by only a 15% drop in humidity, the pumpkins have become an important reminder to me that mother earth is at work at her ceaseless and ancient cycle. Another year has turned, life folding away behind it for safe keeping, in memories, in our day dreams, in our longings for places we've been, the hundreds of places we've visited in that year where we've left little pieces of ourselves.  

They remind me of slipping into the car in upstate New York when the air is crisp and driving to Iron Kettle Pumpkin Farm, of fresh milled cider and cinnamon-sugar doughnuts still hot from the fryer, of Halloween costume shopping, of running through the leaf-filled streets of Ithaca New York with pillowcases of candy, heart racing and cold-cheeked.
Fairytale. They remind me too, of all the adventures I've had, the people I've met. The stories I've told and the mystery that lies beyond the daily grind we so often slip away into, unconscious, where we are momentarily unreachable by the worlds that may exist beyond. These giant, dumpy and lovable squashes remind me to be present; autumn is coming, autumn is coming...

They remind me that we are all living our own fairy tales, each and every day, if we can only just remember. 

I didn't buy my Fairytale Pumpkins yet. It's too hot still, you know, and I couldn't stand to watch them fade, rot in what is still our late summer heat. But it was simply the sight of them, these simple things that grew from seed, that invigorated me. Helped me remember. 
And I wanted to share that with you. 

Happy Autumn to you... and may the enchantment continue to find you each and every day.