Squash is the only food which I was forced to eat in my childhood which I still cannot enjoy. Unless you count eggplant. And dirt.

So the fact that we spend a month of the year, leading up to Halloween, celebrating it makes me overjoyed, of course. The fact that it's actually a celebration of the effectively inedible, and generally uneaten, pumpkin variety makes it perfect. What better way to eradicate squash from our diet than by picking as many varieties as we can find and letting them sit around on our porches until they wither and die a horrible, moldy death? Or, more likely, until they get kicked in or thrown in the street on Halloween night (probably by kids who share my feelings toward them).

So it's a mystery how I found myself in a pumpkin farm this weekend. I'm pretty sure it has something to do with this fundamental fact of parenthood: what you enjoy has nothing to do with it.

Regardless, I thought I'd document some of the things I saw for posterity:


Feeling out of place

Inverse pumpkin


No caption: I just like the picture

Haycorn squash


Bone marrows


Pumpkin kin

Another corny caption

Finally, I couldn't help bringing this one back from several years ago in Russia, posted on a blog far, far away:

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