We headed to Pemberton Farms, on Mass. Ave. in Cambridge. They had about six pumpkins left. Had we waited too long? Were we about to face a pumpkin-less Halloween?
I couldn't help being worried. After all, Pemberton's yard was already full of potted evergreens, etc., for You-know-what.
We drove to Wilson Farm and heaved a sigh of relief. They were overflowing with every kind of pumpkin, especially huge ones. They were running a special where you could fill a cart with all the pumpkins it could hold and pay a fixed price.
Here's a photo of their yard, full of hanging witches and scarecrows, moving in the breeze.
Wilson offers several exotic varieties: gray ones known as "blue pumpkins," white, rugged yellow, pale pink, and flattened, brownish "fairy-tale" pumpkins, reminiscent of Cinderella's coach. I didn't have time to catalog all the varieties; I was hunting for a couple of good specimens to bring home. But I had to photograph this eggplant-shaped monster, something I hadn't seen before:
Even more distracting to my photography efforts was our bag of hot, sugar-coated cider donuts, which made my fingers too sticky to use the camera. Before we got them, I'd snapped a few items of interest:
I think that on our next visit, we'll need to try the freshly dipped apples.
My husband chose his carving pumpkin, with a classic with a sturdy, emphatic stem. I settled on two small ones that had worn sunblock throughout the growing season. Their unblemished pale skins are so pretty that I may decide not to carve them.
Snicky, our Halloween cat, is skeptical of white pumpkins