Octobre means October

I love October in Minnesota for a million reasons.  Growing up in California, fall foliage wasn't a thing.  Pumpkin patches were always in parking lots.  And we had certainly never heard of hammerschlagen.  So here in Minnesota, we do fall really big.  It starts with the apple picking, and this weekend, we entered phase two and three of fall with the annual Oktoberfest part and our trip to Dehn's Pumpkin Patch.  

Our friends Kevin and Chrissy held their third annual Oktobertfest party last night.  There are always the traditional brats, beer, and reuben balls.  But the one main attraction is hammerschlagen.  There is a log standing upright and in front of each person, there is a nail that is just slightly in the log.  As you go around the circle, each person gets to swing their hammer one time and try to drive their nail into the log.  The first person who gets their hammer all the way in the log wins.  So of course, Abel had no choice but to play.  While I'm not saying that he lost, I'm not saying that he won, either.  

Playing hammerschlagen, blending in quite nicely as Minnesotan. 

Today, we continued the fall mania by taking Abel to the pumpkin patch.  And....so did half of the Twin Cities.  Driving up to Dehn's Pumpkin Patch, Abel wanted to know if they put the pumpkins there.  After we explained to him that they grew there, we headed out to choose our pumpkins.  

Of course, the wagon is a ride.

First, the boys did what boys do and played in the wagon.  First, Jude tried to drag Abel out into the patch, and then they switched roles and flew down the hill.  Since we was little, Jude has always chosen perhaps the third pumpkin that he spotted in the pasture.  Thisy ear, I think that he may have understood that, like Christmas trees, the pumpkin has to call your name.  

Abel got it right away, after Liz explained some important pumpkin criteria.  The perfect pumpkin according to Liz must have no soft spots, must stand up independently, and must have a large smooth spot for carving.  After he picked up a few pumpkins for a careful examination, he found the pumpkin of his dreams.  It called his name.

After pumpkins were chosen, the boys tried their luck at shooting gourds into pumpkins.  No success, but pretty hysterical nonetheless.

Ceci n'est pas un pumpkin.

No, they didn't put those pumpkins there.  They grow there.

Abel first decided that he pumpkin was a female. And then decided that this was the girl for him.