Shoveling pumpkins from the yard

No wonder my back hurts. I was shoveling pumpkins this weekend.

Like most folks, we've been busy making the household transformation from autumn and Thanksgiving to winter and Christmas.

That no longer means, I confess, shopping for a Christmas tree to cut down and haul home. A few years back, we found that a sizeable Norfolk Pine that we keep in a pot in our backyard in warm weather does double duty nicely as a Christmas tree. By now, it's almost five feet tall, however, so this may be its last Christmas in the house. A year from now, I may be writing a column attempting to put the Norfolk Pine up for adoption by the library or John Jay Center for Learning.

But the transition still means the usual drill of putting the garden to bed for the season, and getting the Christmas lights out of the attic. It also means that my brain starts buzzing as I search for ideas for the annual Christmas story I write for my kids; I've done it for 30 years now, and I'm not sure they'd forgive me if I stopped now.

The weekend found us hauling out snowglobes, unwinding extension cords, draping lights on the bushes by the front door, and putting garland on the staircase.

The stockings for the fireplace mantel will wait a bit, but it's beginning to look a lot more like Christmas at our house now.

Sunday afternoon, during halftime of the Colts game, I worked on the outdoor lights. Nothing spectacular like our neighbor Jon Lombardo, whose display draws people from miles. Just some simple lights that announce this is a more festive season, a season worthy of celebration.

I'd just about finished when I noticed the pumpkin.

Talk about a symbol of autumn. It sat on our small front porch in all its orange glory, though December's wintry winds were blowing.

We'd bought it at the Farmers' Market in Portland, during one of our regular forays to that Saturday afternoon event. And while it would never qualify as a prize-winner at the pumpkin contest Elvin Newhouse promotes in Pennville, it had served us well.

Trouble is, pumpkins don't last forever.

A few years back, during a similar seasonal transition, I found our pumpkin was more than a little on the squishy side.

On Sunday, I wasn't taking any chances.

I got one of the snow shovels out of the garage and took it around to the front. Sliding it tentatively under the pumpkin, I gave the aging squash a lift.

It was heavier than the squishy one, and it was tricky to keep it balanced on the snow shovel as I took it out back and tossed it on our compost heap.

When I complained about its weight (and my aching back), my wife suggested that the pumpkin was probably frozen.

Maybe so.

But that has me wondering: Which weighs more, a blizzard's snow or a frozen pumpkin?

I have all winter to figure that one out.[[In-content Ad]]