Sweatin' Pumpkins

A few days after Labor Day, I planned a trip to the grocery store. My husband and I were in definite need of restocking the essentials, but warm weather had given us another idea. The sunny forecast practically beckoned us to take advantage of the abundant summertime dishes that we could enjoy out on our patio.

“Get some fruit,” my husband said as I made my shopping list. “We need to eat what’s currently available, and I’ll use all those flavors when I create our next meal.”

I thought about what would go well together. “How about I get a watermelon and then lots of seasonal berries? We can do a great mix with those.”

“That’s fine, just don’t buy anything extra. It’s still hot outside. Let’s eat seasonally and concentrate on only what is local right now.”

I left for the market, parked my car and walked across the hot pavement of the shopping area still thinking about warm weather menus. Only after the glass doors of the store opened, did my confusion begin.

Before I could even manage to untangle a cart from the snare of stacked metal handles, the intense aroma of cinnamon filled the air. I looked around, half expecting to see a spice display, but all I could see was a small kiosk of scented pinecones. I pushed past the heavenly fall scent and shook my head. Didn’t people realize that it was only early September?

With the instructions from my husband clearly in my mind, I navigated through the beautifully arranged flowers and the abundant summer produce. No sooner had I located the table with every berry known to the modern shopper than I spied a large pallet of watermelons. I made a beeline to the overflowing table, but then I stopped dead in my tracts. Right next to the watermelons was the largest pyramid of pumpkins and fall gourds that I have ever seen.

For a moment, I simply stopped and stared at both displays. Each one was equally appealing, but it was ninety degrees outside, and I had come to the store to buy summer fruit. After all, it was still technically summertime, wasn’t it? Standing there, I wondered how the world morphed into pumpkins and squash when I was still in a sleeveless dress?

With determination, I squared my shoulders and remembered my list. Resisting the zealous autumn marketing of my local grocer, I grabbed a fair-sized watermelon from the table. As I heaved my prize into my cart, my eyes darted around the store. Thankfully I didn’t recognize any of the other shoppers because there is something about the hoisting of a good-sized melon into a metal basket that almost always feels comical.

When I arrived home, my husband was out running errands. I was just putting the last of the groceries away when he walked into the house.

“I brought you something,” he announced as he produced a delicious looking chilled drink. “I stopped by the coffee shop that you like and brought you a treat. Here, try it.”

I took a long sip and smiled at the delightful flavor. “That’s great, but what is it?”

My husband looked sheepish. “It’s your favorite iced coffee but the barista talked me into trying one of their new fall flavors. I couldn’t resist. It’s pumpkin.”