I’ve never liked pumpkin pie, pumpkin lattes, pumpkin cookies, pumpkin ice cream, or Ted Drew’s Pumpkin-whatever-it-is they’ve made with pumpkin for the month of October.
I feel like a bit of a Martian, not being able to participate with normal people sipping their spice coffees, pumpkin breads, squealing with delight when Starbucks puts out that first sign that says ‘Yes!! It’s back!! Come in and we’ll give you your October fix, OMG!!’ To me this sign reads, ‘Jeeze. Get back on the Mothership.’
I’m left out of this tradition, and yet I’ve tried to stay incognito. When you say to someone, “I don’t like pumpkin,” you know how they respond? “You know who else doesn’t like pumpkin? (Insert evil dictator/terrorist of choice), that’s who!”
I like carving pumpkins; I love that squashy scent when I pull out its guts for the first time on Halloween afternoon. I love walking through pumpkin patches, tapping on them in the grocery stores to give them a little how’s-it-going, to make sure they know that even though I don’t like to eat them, I appreciate them all the same. Without the pumpkin, this time of year wouldn’t be the same.
Maybe someday I’ll eat something with pumpkin by accident and think, ‘Oh wow, this is yummy. All these wasted years!’ Then I’ll finally get to join the Pumpkin Posse, because, let’s face it, they’re a pretty intimidating bunch.