Pumpkins and Old American Trucks

John took me to our annual A and P Show in our little township at the domain. We were only there a short time but long enough to drool over the coolest Ford and Chevy trucks I’ve ever seen, some of which were in cherry condition.
So, after spending most of our time admiring the rather spartan interior and boxlike chassis of one or two of the beauties on display, we ventured forth to the flower and vegetable competition bungalow, where I noticed the vast array of rather big pumpkins outside. Hard to miss them actually, I almost tripped over them. Remembering the tiny size of my own pumpkin that was almost dormant by now with the advent of the very cold weather we’ve had, I must say I was very impressed with the girth of some of these behemoths.
Going inside John and I took separate paths and I somehow lost him as I studied some Lego constructions by little ones to express their ideas of farm life. The one that won the prize was the granddaughter of our farmers that own the farm we live on and several others. We actually ran into them and chatted a while to them before entering the hallowed halls of the floral displays along with the vegetable growers’ competitions. Although it did cross my mind on occasion to enter some of my own harvested veggies, I didn’t actually want to vie for a prize, when eating it seems to be enough for us. But if I could grow a humungous pumpkin, I might be feeling a lot more inclined to throw my hat into the ring. Or my carrots, beans or squash. The grand prize winner of the entire show was a set of 3 perfect golden-brown onions, but I’ve never been able to be patient enough to wait for them to mature and mine never have looked as pristine as those on display at this exhibition. But I wandered around, lovingly glancing at each participant’s offerings and I was feeling quite gratified that I too have grown specimens just as worthy of those kind looks from strangers perusing the aisles of contenders.
The flower display knocked me over with the dahlias and those alone made the $10 per person admission fee well worth the price. Let it suffice to say that they were even more stunning in person than these mere photographic images can show, evoking sentimental memories of past garden glories for many of us.
And once John had scarfed down his hot dog on a stick. we were out of there in a flash to go back to our simple rural lives a few minutes away, to our own gorgeous gardens with areas we still needed to improve using some of the ideas gleaned from the inspiration from the A and P show.
But it was a lovely respite from our endless farm chores and my best buddies, the baby chickens were waiting for me at the door. In fact, I can’t seem to lose them ever and dissuade them from being by the house. When I do want to use the door, I have to sweep first then wash down the concrete so I don’t trample all their mess inside. Oh, happy days. Now how can I get them to go back to being free range on the range and not be this domesticated?
I do understand when it’s really cold and raining and windy and they roost all puffed up by the glass door looking in plaintively. But during a normal day they need to be out in the field. I’ll have to lure them by feeding them snacks somewhere else. The ignorant city slicker girl strikes again. What did I ever know about raising chickens? Zippo.