On Pumpkins & October

If I am honest, I must confess that this October obsession with  pumpkin anything somewhat bothers me. I love autumn and pumpkin pie as much as the next person, but why must everything be pumpkin flavoured this month? What about acorn squash, sage, leeks, butternut gourds or the rest of October's seasonal best? Not everything needs to be pumpkin. 
(Especially lattes. But we won't go there just now).

A few weeks ago, when my various social media news-feeds began exploding with recipes and food ideas for a thoroughly pumpkin-flavoured life, I made a mental note to avoid falling into this October cliche. So, as you may guess, I am a little ashamed to admit that this week, I have already made both pumpkin soup and pumpkin-chocolate-chip muffins. And its only Wednesday. 

The internet hardly needs another recipe for pumpkin flavoured anything, so I won't clutter space up by adding one here. But if you are looking to embrace October's pumpkins in all their orange glory, here are a few of my personal favourites: pumpkin soup, pumpkin bread and pumpkin pasta.

Among other things, our neighbors, who bought the lovely old house behind us at a foggy auction last spring, have been renovating and modernizing the charm out of the stately home ever since. At first, I was admittedly peeved that they would dare to so rudely alter such a beautiful historic house (no matter that they own it and can do whatever they please to their own property). However, lately, these new neighbors have been piling discarded bits of the old house on the curb with a large sign reading FREE propped  up beside. And honestly, Zack and I have been pleased as punch to glean from their abandoned abundance. Of course, we do not wish to be those neighbors--the ones who trash pick and snitch so very obviously--so we've been waiting for the cover of darkness to partake of the day's free loot. 

So if you happen to be driving around our little neighborhood around 10:30 at night and see two twenty-somethings in their pajamas clumsily hauling heavy depression-era wooden doors and glass-paneled windows around the block, they will, mostly likely, be husband and me.


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