October 26th is National Pumpkin Day Douglas' pumpkin - the real thing, and the thing to be. A possum and his pumpkin... it's a beautiful thing You might notice that Douglas Furr is very well dressed atop this gorgeous 'Field Trip' pumpkin. It's because this was the very first one picked out of the pumpkin patch this year. And by patch I mean one giant vine that crashed through the honeysuckle and barrel-rolled down the flower bed embankment. It harbored six perfect pumpkins. This one was plucked from the vine on Sept. 22nd. Douglas wore his best Halloween ribbon for the event and gave the pumpkin a primo seat by the main entrance. He had selected it as the chosen pumpkin weeks before the big day. It's no secret that Douglas Furr is a Halloween enthusiast and the spookiest possum around. It's kind of a secret that he actually has a story about a very special pumpkin picked for him by his good friend Hedgie Wilkinson. In honor of National Pumpkin Day, here's a little teaser... DOUGLAS' PUMPKIN Chapter 1: A Good Day to Pick Pumpkins It would soon be the first weekend in October and the last weekend in September. Hedgie had marked the date on his calendar months ago - this would be the first harvest weekend for his pumpkins. His very own pumpkins! All the way back in May, when the air still smelled like fresh springtime and the dogwoods were blooming, Hedgie's mind was growing a grand idea. He had made arrangements with a local farm to rent out a corner plot that was long since unused. There he would plant his very own pumpkin patch. Hedgie had worked hard to get the ground ready for his dream crop. Since the plot had not been planted for a very long time, Hedgie had to weed and rake, dig and plow, until the ground was soft and smooth. By June, Hedgie had a fine looking square of earth just waiting for many, many pumpkins to be planted. And plant pumpkins he did. Hedgie grew all shapes, sizes, and colors. Tiny orange pumpkins. White round pumpkins. Big, chunky slate blue pumpkins. Enormous orange pumpkins. Pumpkins with bumps and stripes. The first pumpkins ready to pick today were the little orange and white pumpkins, smallest of them all. Hedgie's seed supplier called them "Jack Be Little's". The day had arrived. Hedgie woke up and looked out the window. It was a beautiful fall morning. The sun was shining across the hillside, casting a spotlight on the sea of trees that were showing their first signs of autumn colors. He was excited - it was his first season as a pumpkin farmer. He could hardly wait to see his field. Hedgie smiled and exited his bed with a bounce. He grabbed his wide brimmed acorn gardening hat off the wall and a few scones that Fuzzy had dropped off yesterday, then strolled out into the warm sunshine. The last thing Hedgie needed to retrieve before heading to the orchard was his wagon for collecting pumpkins. As he nibbled on a scone while walking to his shed, Hedgie thought about poor Douglas, who was stuck at home with a cold. Douglas the possum had planned to accompany Hedgie in today's pumpkin harvest but he fell ill with sneezing fits two days ago. Fuzzy had made fresh lemon and lavender scones and delivered them to Douglas yesterday, along with some infused honey and tea. Extra scones were dropped off at Hedgie's front door in a little basket while he was running errands. "I should stop by Douglas' on my way to the orchard and make sure he's okay," thought Hedgie. He crammed the last bit of scone into his mouth and pulled his wagon from the shed. Douglas didn't live too far away, and his house was on the way to the orchard. Hedgie started off down the road, his little metal wagon softly squeaking along. He couldn't wait to fill it with pumpkins, and would be sure to bring one back for Douglas. A little further down the road and around one more bend would be Douglas' house. Douglas Furr lived in a quaint, well constructed shanty along the creek. Hedgie brought his wagon to a halt at the base of the staircase leading to Douglas' front door. He climbed the seventeen winding steps, all while admiring the spectacular view of the water. At the top he paused, debating whether or not he should knock. If Douglas was asleep, Hedgie did not want to disturb him - he could simply stop on his way back. However, if he was awake, he most certainly wanted to pop in and say hello. Undecided, Hedgie cupped his hands around his face and peered through the glass on the front door. No sign of Douglas. "Perhaps he's sleeping," Hedgie wondered. "I certainly don't want to interrupt him from a proper rest. I will check one more time for any sign of him, before I go." He followed the wrap around deck to the western side of the house where Douglas' bedroom was located. Douglas was not a very early riser, and the curtains on his bedroom window were pulled almost completely shut. There was just enough space for Hedgie to catch a glimpse of a possum lying very still in his bed. Very, very still. Hedgie gasped and looked closer. Douglas was lying on his back, completely motionless, his arms and legs extended skyward and stiff. He appeared to be dead. "Douglas!" Hedgie shrieked, and ran back across the deck as fast as his legs could carry him. He ripped open the front door and flew to the bedside. Wide-eyed and speechless, he poked at his friend with a shaking finger. Almost immediately, and with an expressionless face, Douglas opened his eyes. But nothing else changed, and he remained statue-like and rigid, questioning his guest with evident surprise. "Hedgie? Is that you?" "AHH!" Hedgie cried with a startled leap backward. "Ahhh!" Douglas echoed, quite confused. "Hedgie! Hedgie? What's going on?" Hedgie fumbled for words a moment then simply blurted out, "I thought you were dead!" Douglas looked at Hedgie and blinked a few times, thoroughly puzzled. As he looked at Hedgie, he noticed his own legs and feet staring back at him. He began to chuckle and relaxed, propping himself up into a sitting position. "Oh my," he explained with a laugh. "I must have been having that dream again about the popcorn and the chickens." Hedgie stared blankly at him. "What?" "Well you see it goes like this," Douglas began. "I'm sitting on a bench eating popcorn, minding my own business, when along comes a raucous group of hens. They are all squabbling among themselves, when suddenly one of them spots my popcorn. They start running toward me, so I get up and start running away, but they're so fast. They are very athletic hens, maybe wearing sneakers, I don't recall...but they catch up with me and start pecking me because they want my popcorn. I throw the bag in the air and play possum, hoping they will leave after they've eaten all the popcorn. Then I wake up. Or, on rare occasions, I get woken up," he added with a smile. Hedgie laughed with relief. Douglas coughed and his smile faded somewhat. "I wish I felt better so that I could go pumpkin picking with you today." He slouched and looked at his toes with a tiny sigh. Hedgie smiled reassuringly at his friend. "Douglas, I have planted so many pumpkins that you'd have to be sick the entire fall season to not pick a single pumpkin with me. This is only the very first patch to be picked, and they are the smallest pumpkins. You can help me collect the big ones." Douglas liked the sound of that idea. He agreed to rest up for the remainder of the morning and take it easy. Hedgie fixed him a hot cup of tea and a plate of scones. He also rummaged through the mail carton by the front door, which had been untouched for two days, and pulled out the latest copy of The Picketwire - a whimsical magazine that often featured travel articles and recycled crafts, which were of great interest to Douglas. Satisfied that his friend was now properly situated with both snacking and reading material, Hedgie bid Douglas so long and resumed his travels to Hood Spring Farm. To be continued... Wait, who's the wolf with the apple? The 'wolf with the apple' belongs to the above story... but in a different part. It is not, in fact, a wolf. It's Nordaust, one of Hedgie's friends who lives at Hood Spring Farm. If Nordaust could speak for himself, he'd proudly tell you that he is a Great Northern Jaloo Hunting Dog imported from Scandinavia in a shipment of cheese. His job is to patrol the orchard with his buddy Sweep (a big yellow Jeep) and keep the Jaloos away from the apples. A Jaloo is... well... see for yourself: Contrary to popular belief, they do not eat pumpkins.
Happy Pumpkin Day!
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Tales of Douglas Furr (and his friends)narrated by Crissy Clossin Archives
February 2024
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