A few years ago blogging was a new thing.  It didn’t even sound like a legitimate word:  more like a drunken slur or a fifth grade science experiment gone wrong (like that cornstarchy stuff that’s hard till you touch it and then it’s all wilty-like:  wacky).  But now, now blogging is an old hat that’s hanging up on the hat rack with the likes of the English translation of the Bible and EVOO.  So as one surfs the world wide web, one notes certain themes at certain times of the year.  Come February, things are pink.  Fourth of July?  Exploding pictures.  And October, well, that’s all muddy and orange from the obligatory trip to the pumpkin patch.  Which we engaged in.  Because we’re mavericky Americans:  yes, we are.

Hooded Squash Wrangler and a Plastic Bag:  I sense squash abductions are afoot.  Run, pumpkins!  Er, *roll*, pumpkins, while there’s still time!

When touring a pumpkin patch, a place to celebrate God’s bounty, what does one come across?  Hay, mud, tractors, the remains of the farm’s two largest pumpkins after having been dropped on a car in order to smash them all to smithereens, pumpkins, corn mazes:  you know, God’s bounty.

Professional Squash Wrangler at Work.  Can you hear the cries?  “No, not me, take that other pumpkin!  He’s much rounder!  I have so much more life to live:  why?  Why take such a young one?  WHYYYYY??????!!!??????”  Which is why Professional Squash Wranglers wear hoodies:  to muffle the cries of the innocent.

Where does one go after a heartless bout of Squash Wrangling?  A fake teepee, of course.

Hmm:  look at the log cabin and learn a bit of history?  OR wander off to the fence by the Giant Ravine and throw sticks into it.  You make the call.

Aw, look:  they’re enjoying God’s Bounty.

OR they’re on a recon mission to figure out how to Karate Chop! God’s Bounty.

They’re on to us!  Abort mission!  I repeat, Mountaineer, abort!

RUN AWAY!!!   RUN AWAY!!!!

After surviving the glory of God’s Bounty, it’s best to eat of it:  Spiderman-shaped artifically-flavored high fructose corn syrup gummi snacks:  God is the *BEST*!!

Heavens above!  The flowers and pumpkins have faces!!  What kind of freaky farm are we on?!!  I know we’re close to the Willamette with its five legged frogs, but seriously!  And, uh, Mr. Turkey, did you note that shiny object close to your noggin?  We are not afraid to talk about the realities of being God’s Bounty on this trip:  no, sirree!

Kinda like that goo I talked about before:  touch a Professional Squash Wrangler, and he collapses.

Only the Professional Wrangler of the Professional Squash Wranglers could, well, wrangle all the wranglers into a group non-wrangling shot.  And with a smile on her face.  Because she enjoys God’s Bounty.  And because she gets to send all the other enjoyers of God’s Bounty to their respective bountiful abodes and not have to deal with an afternoon of non-napping wranglers.  Or something like that.

Daily Drivel, JJ Jawings