They’re calling it the Great Pumpkin Shortage, but there’s nothing terribly great about it in my book.
‘Tis the season when I begin to crave all my foods pumpkin-ized. Pumpkin donuts. Pumpkin cookies with little raisins. Pumpkin roll with a cream cheese filling. Pumpkin flavoring pumped into a fresh cup of hot chocolate to take off the chill of fall.
If I’m making your mouth water, perhaps you’ll understand.
Hurricane Irene’s path through the northeast took out acre upon acre of the bright orange standbys, and she killed the very best part of fall – for me anyway – in the process.
I just don’t get the fall fantasies, frankly.
I’m not one for raking leaves or rubbing my hands together to bring life back to my fingertips on the sidelines of the kid’s soccer team. The so-called Indian summer we’ve been enjoying this past week has been like manna from the gods. Blame it on my summer birthday perhaps, but save for the winter when I was pregnant, I spend the months between August and June trying desperately to warm up and the months between June and August trying to make up for it all.
Pumpkins, with that bright orangey-red rind practically scream “warm” and the chance to bake those pumpkin cookies brings my kitchen to an approximation of the temperatures I most enjoy.
Sadly, even the ‘net, my go-to source for fixing what ails you, is offering little relief this season.
Suggestions range from drawing jack o’lantern faces on milk jugs to mounds of orange play-doh. They blaspheme. And don’t exactly solve the problem.
I’m perfectly OK with skipping that big gourd on the front porch that will inevitably start to rot before the holiday even hits. But don’t take my pumpkin cookies. Or my donuts. Or my . . .
Image via Kam’s World/Flickr