Prompt: Write about pumpkins.
Day 1:
The Farmer dug around in the disorganized garden shed. Where had he put that seed packet? It was late spring, and therefore planting time.
"Tomatoes, cucumbers, leeks, cabbages… ah!" He pulled out a small white paper packet and smirked at it in triumph. "Found you!"
It was a seed for some kind of outlandish squash that he had never heard of before, let alone tried to grow. But Emma had insisted that you could make a great pie out of it, and his wife had expressed such interest after that that the Farmer had been obliged to send for some of the seeds.
Opening the packet, he shook the large, off-white items into the palm of his hand. "Huh."
Going out to the hoed field and planting them in rows was the work of fifteen minutes. After watering each of the eight small mounds of earth, the Farmer straightened up and wiped his hand on his overalls. "Let's see how these turn out, shall we?" he muttered, before he moved on to another part of the field.
Day 12:
The Farmer squinted down at the seven little green sprouts shooting out of the ground. He smiled. At least they had germinated nicely. All except for one, that is, but faulty seeds were to be expected.
"Let's see if we can get some flowers on you," he grinned, looking with anticipation at the growing squashes.
Day 49:
"Alright, water that one next, Jo," the Farmer instructed, as his son lugged the watering can over the green vines that were spread all over the ground. At the source of the entangling growth, Jo proceeded to dump out half of the watering can. "Hey, go easy," the Farmer laughed. "Don't drown it."
"Daddy, look!" the youngling said, bending down and pointing at a swelling bud, "it's a baby flower!"
The Farmer walked over and inspected the object of his son's excitement. "Yes, that'll be what'll turn into a squash, by and by." He ruffled the top of the young buck's head, and added: "Let's hope the bees like it."
Jo twitched his whiskers. "What's this called again?"
"A pumpkin."
"Oh." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "I've never hearded of a pumpkin before."
"It's a pretty funny name," the Farmer agreed. "You'd almost expect it to be out of a Goofhack story, huh?"
Jo thought that funny, and he giggled. "I like Goofhack."
"Me too."
Day 74:
"Daddy!"
The Farmer straightened up from picking beetles off the ears of corn, squinting over at his young son from under the brim of his sun hat. "Yes, Jo?"
"I founded another small green pumpy-kin squash on the vines!"
"No!" the Farmer gasped in mock surprise. "How many does that make?"
"One whole hand!" Jo held up a grubby paw to demonstrate the amount. "But the vines is so thick," he added, his brown eyes somber, "so I think I didn't sawed one and then forgot to count him."
The Farmer laughed. "Come help me with these bugs, and then we can go look for more baby pumpkins."
Day 92:
It was a good harvest that year, all things considered. One of the plants had died during the heat of the summer, and during a sudden wet week one of the pumpkins had rotted. But the remaining plants had made up for it, with one plant even producing an extra pumpkin. As the Farmer cut the sixth and final pumpkin from its vine with his pair of garden shears, he smiled fondly at it. His wife then lifted it up and set it with the others into the wheelbarrow. "I'll get these washed up quickly, and then stewed and canned over the week. And by the next Feast of the Mending, I'll have a pie of them yet," she smirked.
"Can I have some at the feast?" Jo asked, bouncing with excitement. "I helped growing them, didn't I, Daddy?"
"You did indeed," the Farmer acknowledged, "and I'll make sure that, after the king, you get the biggest slice of them all."
"It was Emma who requested we make pumpkin pie for the Feast in the first place," his wife laughed. "You should set her aside a piece too."
The Farmer put his arm around his wife, then glanced down at his son. "Well, for a first pumpkin growth and harvest, this wasn't bad at all," he said.