Grandma Diary: Pumpkins & Apples

On the way to the pick-your-own farm, we saw two police cars.

I’d picked Simon up from daycare to go pumpkin and apple picking.

“Who made the light flash?”

Toddlers would make great reporters. Every question is a why, what, who, where, when.

“Maybe the policeman.” I said.

Entering the farm, he noticed the backhoe loader and red tractor. The kid knows his vehicles.

We selected a wheelbarrow to collect our pumpkins. Simon insisted on pushing it.  

As we walked, we talked. When he’s not running, he walks slower, giving us time to notice things. We looked at the field of pumpkins. We planned to find one for everyone in the family.

He found a small one for his one- year-old sister. Then a bigger one for himself. 

It was Goldilocks & the Three Bears in the pumpkin patch.  These weren’t attached to the vines so he carried them and put them in the wheelbarrow.  We found a medium-sized one for his mother and then a giant one for his father, who he calls “abba,” Hebrew for father.  I had to snap the thick vines to loosen them. We carried these heavy ones together. 

We pushed the full wheelbarrow back to the farm stand. An airplane flew overhead. He stopped to look at it.

“Where’s the airplane going?” I asked.

“To Detroit.” He said. “To Savta and Sabba’s house.”

His other grandparents.  We talked about how he’s going there in a few weeks to celebrate Succoth.

We walked to the apple orchard. He saw another tractor, a green one.

We looked at the rotten, mushy apples on the ground. We smelled them.   We talked about how we’d dipped apples in honey on Rosh Hashanna. We started picking apples, I said we didn’t want too many and to find ones that were red and didn’t have any bugs or boo-boos. He checked each one.  

The bag full, we headed back. A lone apple on a low branch caught his eye.  He needed that last one.  

We selected three mums. A red one for his mother and a purple and yellow one for me.

The produce paid for, we loaded everything into the car.  A ladybug at the bottom of the wheelbarrow quickly flew away.

As we left, Simon said “bye-bye” to the farm, the tractors, and the backhoe loader. “See you next time.”

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