The Christmas Pumpkin

One spring Jared felt the need

To plant a bunch of pumpkin seed,

So late in May we broke some ground

And spread a little seed around.

The seeds all sprouted; the plants looked fine,

And little Jared’s eyes just shined!

All summer long we’d hoe and scratch

And manicure our pumpkin patch.

Come weekends we’d spend hours each day,

To clean the weeds and rocks away.

Little Jared thought it was worlds of fun

To work all day in the Ozark sun.

When Robin brought us lemonade

We’d sprawl in the cool of the Hickory’s shade.

We’d admire our work for an hour or more,

And recall the field as it looked before.

Soon one plant outgrew the rest,

And one big pumpkin was doing the best,

So Jared checked it every day,

To keep the weeds and the bugs away.

He couldn’t have budged it, had he tried,

But he loved that pumpkin with a farmer’s pride!

When harvest came we cut the stem,

And handled that pumpkin like a precious gem.

It was great to see the townsfolk stare

At Jared and his pumpkin at the County Fair,

And the tears of joy in Jared’s eyes,

When that old pumpkin took first prize!

It took two men to load it up and haul it off the grounds.

Its circumference measured six foot plus,

And it weighed one hundred pounds!

When we got it home I scratched my head.

“What do we do with it now?” I said!

And it began to worry me;

That pumpkin was part of our family!

Come Halloween it sat with pride

And glimmered by the fireside.

Little Jared would have give his life

To spare that pumpkin from the knife.

It looked real pretty, I have to say,

All shined up for Thanksgiving Day.

And we decked it out with a big red bow

And a little sprig of mistletoe,

Till it was quite a sight to see,

Beaming from under the Christmas tree.

Well finally it was spring once more,

And that pumpkin still sat on the dining room floor,

And looked for all the world to me

Like a permanent part of our family!

Then one day Jared felt the need

To plant a bunch of pumpkin seed.

We both let go with an Ozark shout,

As we rolled that big old pumpkin out,

Down to the field where it had grown,

And on that spot its seeds were sewn.

Now year after year those pumpkins grow,

And catch the sunlight row by row.

And each one meets their destiny,

Till our fields just glow with their progeny!

STC

Photos by S.T. Casebeer