Our pumpkins barely made it to the carving blocks this year. In fact, if I hadn't rescued them quickly enough our chickens would have made short order of them, just like this scene. In fact, the chickens had already started some of the "carving" for us.
Since we didn't get to the carving until after Halloween, I really wanted to encourage the girls away from faces to something that could be more Fall-ish. Emma seemed pretty dead-set on carving something scary into her pumpkin…that is, until I brought out her daddy's power drill.
I wish I had pictures–bits of pumpkin flying everywhere. Girls wielding power tools. But a mother can only handle so much power tool safety without trying to photograph it at the same time. Some things are better left to the imagination.
Once the carving was finished, I happily carried the pulpy mess into my kitchen where I spent a painstakingly long amount of time cleaning the seeds. I LOVE pumpkin seeds. I mean, seriously LOOOVE them. It really bothers me if I accidentally let one slip into the discard pile, or I miss one hiding in the pulp. I get every.single.seed.
And then I roast them with a little salt and butter in the skillet, all while fighting off little fingers who try to get in on the goodness.
Now they are sitting on the center of our kitchen table in a canning jar, whose lid I have screwed on so tight, I can barely get it off myself. It's kid-proof, requiring help (and the rationing of seeds) whenever little children decide they want to dip in to the treasure chest of seed-wealth.
I get down-right aggressive about the careful, slow devouring of these seeds.
And I'm thinking next year, I'm planting a whole row of pumpkins in my garden….