Pumpkin Pick-in

At 54 years old I still get excited seeking the most desirable orange,  global beauty.
I am taking about pumpkin!

My dad and I had a tradition when it came to this sport.  We spent the day picking and choosing the most rounded perfect pumpkin nature produced that season. That evening dad took out his magical oil crayons drawing the most beautiful face on our pumpkin.  The day arrived I so dreaded it was time for my dad, Matty Boy, to go back home. Not only will I miss our pumpkin hunting, but the world will be minus one good human being. Now our ritual is handed down to my daughter and I.   Dad may not be here physically  but I drag his spiritual body to the patch!

One day in particular brings such warm and fuzzy thoughts.   My daughter Denyce, now an adult, decided to go hunting for pumpkins at a farm.  This was the first time I experienced picking lovely gourds directly from the vine.  You would have thought I was in heaven.  My face was hurting from smiling so much.
There was Denyce and I in the middle of this, acre upon acre, heaven on earth.  I was becoming exasperated
because we could not find the beauty contest winner we were out seeking.  Just then I decided to call upon
Matty Boy.  "Dad, find for us a beauty queen winner".  I went one step further and asked the impossible.
"Dad, Denyce loves the color pink.  "Can you find a pink pumpkin"?
As fast as I said this, my eyes suddenly became  heat seeking missiles as they zoned in.
The suns rays pouring down from the heavens illuminating a pink pumpkin. Trumpets from angels could be heard! There it was like a Cecil B. DeMilles movie.  Yeah, you heard me right, a pink pumpkin!

Every time we go pumpkin pick-in, I call my dad to stand besides me.  In a sense our father-daughter bonding still stands.
So Matty Boy, do your thing, because today, I am going pick-in.  Get your walking shoes on and some fairy dust, for I am seeking a purple pumpkin.  Are you up for the challenge?