Just west of Rytuba Pumpkin Farm on Bay Road in Hadley, neon orange construction signs offer a festive forewarning. Just around the bend, a sea of a different shade of orange comes into view.
When I open the car door, the smell of soil nearly overwhelms me. The row of parking overlooks an expanse of fertile field lying just beyond a cozy ranch house. Walking around to the front of the house, I find a swarm of freshly harvested pumpkins. The orange globes are so tightly packed that the hay-strewn grass beneath them is invisible—until you pick one up to take it home.
The pumpkins inhabiting the front lawn are all large and round, made for carving. On the left side, however, a visitor will find a United Nations of pumpkins. There are red ones, green ones, ones way bigger than your head. Some are covered with wart-like lumps, others are as smooth as a baby’s backside. Pumpkins the size of tea saucers are dwarfed by their boulder-sized counterparts. Oblong-shaped gourds of bright yellow and green fill wooden buckets, alongside buckets of apples, butternut squash, acorn squash, and carnival squash.
The small, family-owned farm has been selling pumpkins since 1960. On the weekends, you can catch some of the family, who will tell you all about the varieties of pumpkin and how they are grown.
“It’s nice to have that really big variety for everyone who comes by,” said owner Maria Palo, who grew up at the farm. “Its a really social, satisfying thing—we get to be part of everyone’s festivity.”
On a weekday afternoon, though, the house looks empty. A sign reads, “Welcome. Sorry we are not able to be here now … Feel free to browse, make a purchase or come see us again.” An arrow points to a cash box. A scale sits to the left of the sign, with a separate sign informing shoppers that all pumpkins are $.40 a pound.
Children shuffle through the patch, excitedly lifting up pumpkins and gourds of various sizes. “Mom!” a boy calls out. “How much is this one?”
“Put it on the scale, honey,” his mother responds.
As the afternoon light thins, families amble through the pumpkin patch hand-in-
hand. The leaves drift slowly from the branches above, nestling in the shoppers’ hair as they search for this year’s perfect gourd.
