Our old friend the pumpkin. Is it just me, or does anyone else here think he’s getting a bum rap?
I mean, sure things have gone a little overboard in the last several years. By the time September rolls around, we’re deluged with so much pumpkin that we don’t know which end is up.
Just to clarify, it’s the stem end.
I get it; we’re just one Venti pumpkin spice no-foam latte away from excruciating exasperation, but you gotta admit, it tastes so good going down. I don’t know about you, but I go all weak in the knees when I cross the threshold at Yankee Candle. As soon as I smell the pumpkin pie votives. I scoop those babies up like the free cashews at the neighborhood bar. I realize they are tainted by the unwashed hands of humanity, yet, I can’t resist their allure.
Maybe it’s just that I have an addictive personality. Too much of a good thing is never really too much for me. I’m binge watching Orange Is the New Black while the sweet aroma of pumpkin incense surrounds me in a heavenly cloud, as I reach into a bag of pumpkin spice granola until there’s nothing left but pumpkin dust and unwatched Breaking Bad episodes.
So yes, I will have another slice of pumpkin pie. And thank you very much, I would love a pumpkin whoopie pie, pumpkin bread, pumpkin pudding, ice cream, soup served to me inside a festive pumpkin bowl. I will happily go all Martha in fashioning a fleet of Pinterest worthy decorative pumpkins for my front porch. Hell, just to show you I’m serious, I’m going out now to get my hands on a pint of chalkboard paint in order to go all rogue on my happy orange harvest of pumpkin friends, so as to scribe my affections onto them forthwith.
I’m a go-against-the-grain kinda gal.
I guess what I’m trying to say here is, don’t blame the pumpkin. Don’t smash all his little pumpkiny hopes and dreams. He comes to the party but once a year, so he’s gotta get the glory while he can. He’s not hanging out all year with the apples and bananas. He gets the shaft the other ten months. He just wants our love and attention now, in so many varied configurations. Who could blame him? He’s carved out a nice place for himself on the societal landscape. Perhaps we were all just taking the pumpkin for granted and suddenly realized how much it meant to us, so much that we iconized it to death. Nobody gives the Kardashians this much grief. Or maybe they do, but at least the pumpkin has done something to earn our adoration.
Why do I feel so strongly about this, you ask? What’s up with the pumpkin lady that she feels it necessary to type out a 500 word missive in defense of one of the world’s most overblown fruits?
Consider me a pumpkin advocate. If nobody stands up now, what then? Will we start taking pot shots at egg nog? If we don’t do something now, by the time February rolls around, it might be a full on war with chocolate.
So don’t be afraid to stand up and profess your love of pumpkin. It may have taken on a plethora of roles, but it truly is the Jack o’ All Trades.