Matt has always made remarks about how opinionated I am. He says he can’t understand how I can have such strong opinions on everything. Which I think is his unique way of saying, “dearest wife of mine, I love you. And your views on how life should work are precious in every way. Please do tell me more.” 
Because I’m such a submissive wife, and I know how much he longs to know my many humble theories on life according to Catherine, this one’s for you, Matt.
(See! Such love! Can’t you just sense his enthusiasm and desire to know the inner workings of his wife’s opinionated brain?)
The topic I’m building up to addressing today is a weighty one, so brace yourselves.
Pumpkin patches.
Because FOR THE LOVE, what has our civilization done to the concept of a simple trip out to the local pumpkin patch? These days, the vast majority of our local pumpkin patches have become the equivalent of flippin carnivals. What once was an unadulterated trip to a farm to pick out… wait for it… a PUMPKIN… has become an overpriced day ‘o entertainment with rides and amusements galore. With a side of pumpkins.
Am I a scrooge? Perhaps. But I prefer to consider myself a pumpkin patch purist.
Give us a little hayride. Or even just a wagon will do.
Perhaps some hay bales.
Lots of crops. And flowers. And farmish things. (I’m sparing you the technical agricultural jargon. I didn’t wanna show off, you know.)
Take the rides away. You can have your concession stands or moon bounces. I don’t want much. Just don’t take the farm animals.
Because somehow along the way, I have developed this deep-seated love for farm animals. I squealed when the farm’s owners let me PET THEIR GOAT. And don’t get me started on their pig. My kids literally had to drag me away from my position on the soggy ground with the pig. I was almost snout to snout with the PIG. Talking to the pig. Maybe there’s something wrong with me. Or maybe I just need a farm. Within 15 minutes of Target. I mean, of course.
So, to those of you who love the amusement-park-pumpkin-patches, I’m not hatin’. Go get those pumpkins and ENJOY. But if you tell my kids about what they’re “missing”, I’m coming after you.