At the end of the garden,
Across the litter of weeds and grass cuttings,
The pumpkin spreads its coarse,
Bristled, hollow-stemmed lines,
Erupting in great leaves
Above flowers
The nobbly and prominent
Stigmas of which
Are like fuses
Waiting to be set by bees.
When, like a string
Of yellow mines
Across the garden,
The pumpkins will smolder
And swell,
Drawing the combustion from the sun
To make their own.
At night I lie
Waiting for detonations,
Half expecting
To find the garden
Cratered like a moon.
~John Cotton,
clergyman in England
and the American colonies
You care for the land and water it; you enrich it abundantly. You drench its furrows and level its ridges; you soften it with showers and bless its crops. You crown the year with your bounty, and your carts overflow with abundance. ~Psalm 65:9a, 10-11 ✝
**Images via Pinterest
Sacred Touches 
Oh I simply love pumpkins–I don’t grow my own–we’ve tried but the deer are relentless, with both pumpkins and watermelons—but I can’t wait till they make their arrival–at our local farmer’s markets!!
Hugs and love—Julie
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Oh I adore pumpkins too. I’ve not grown any of my own either, but I did try some gourds one year and got some very nice ones. Now I don’t have enough room for such things. I’m starting to see them here and I always look forward to their presence. Hugs and love, N ❤ ❤
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You sure are gifted with the ability to put photos, images and beautiful words all together…
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Why, thank you. What a lovely compliment! I’m so glad you enjoy my creations! Hugs, N ❤ ❤
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Beautiful sweet Natalie!
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Thank you, Michelle Marie. I appreciate all your beautiful posts as well. Hugs, N ❤ ❤
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Beautiful. 😀
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How nice of you to say so! Hugs, N <3<3
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