The farmers are here. And no, that is not their last name. They grew up on a farm, though. Their grandmother is a sister to Hubby's grandmother. And their dad, Buddy, is Grandma T.'s cousin. But as Marty says, we are his "other" immediate family. Mark is married to Kelly and they have Lincoln. Before they even hit the beach we all hit the pumpkin patch. Gotta love a pumpkin patch in shorts and flip flops.
We took a hay ride on a flatbed kinda tractor out to the rows of pumpkins.
Farmer Family
Son1 tried to pick up pumpkins but they were too heavy. He found a pumpkin gourd and was amused that he could carry it all by himself. He wasn't a huge fan of the stickers on his socks, either. It definitely wasn't as easy as going to an air conditioned grocery store and wheeling a pumpkin to our car in a shopping cart. It was in the high 80s and windy and hot. The red dirt is made from the volcanic earth that is rich in iron. It doesn't taste too good in high wind conditions. It was so windy that the driver of our ride looked like this:
Son2 before the wind kicked up
My nursing cover worked as a pretty good wind barrier.
Marty picked the best pumpkins. That coronated him as Son1's new hero for the week.
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