Jucker Farmart

The kids needed pumpkins, and I needed an excuse to get out of the house.  So after the kids were free from school and had eaten their lunch, we took a few trains and a bus about an hour away to the Jucker Farm.

On the train line that runs by our house, Alex noticed his dear friend Nora
in the next car. They spent the whole ride making funny faces at each other
and doing mime tricks.  That enormous leaf Joey's holding was something
he'd found hours ago and had since been clutching.

What's that? You think it's rather a long way to go for a pumpkin?  Yes, well, it wasn't just a pumpkin patch. They also have enormous sculptures made out of squash. The theme of this year's exhibition was "Swiss stereotypes," and so we had the pleasure of viewing, among other things, a cow and a Swiss Army Knife made out of pumpkins.

The dairy farmer: I kind of love the farmer, pouring out milk fashioned from white pumpkins.

Das Matterhorn

An alphorn player

Swiss Army Knife

Heidi's house

Der Rütlischwur...and now for a brief history lesson.  I recently told you the story of William Tell. After the uprising inspired by his rebellion, representatives from what would become the three original cantons swore stand together. This vow, which marked the formation of the Old Swiss Confederacy, took place in the end of the 12th century, is still celebrated on Swiss National Day, on August 1st. The image in this statue, of three hands held aloft in solemn oath, is a common national emblem.

One of the more popular, non-pumpkiny
 depictions of der Rütlischwur

Jucker Farm is out in the middle of nowhere, at least a twenty minute walk from the closest train station, but in the autumn, on Wednesday afternoons and weekends (when all of the kids are out of school) the bus system runs a special shuttle between the station and the farm.  This wasn't the first time we were the beneficiaries of a special transit-operated shuttle bus: often for special events (for example, soccer games) or festivals (like the Lenzburg festival or for special attractions, the state thoughtfully runs extra bus and tram services. It's wonderful.

The bus dropped us at across a field from the farm, but the kids could see the pumpkins and all three made a mad dash to get there.  In addition to the sculptures, they also had the three largest pumpkins grown this year in Switzerland on display, as well as some carved giant pumpkins. And they had a little goat petting area and a tunnel made out of hay bales for the kids to climb up and slide down.  

And they also had Halloween pumpkins, heaps of them.  The kids took their time selecting the best ones: Alex, as he has since he was two and first started choosing his own pumpkins, picked the smallest one he could find. Joey, conversely, looked for the biggest one, "but no spots!"  That caveat gave me the excuse to steer him toward a more portable pumpkin. Ella, too, would have chosen a thirty-pound pumpkin if she could, but she understood the practical limits of our situation.  She settled for making sure that her pumpkin was just a shade larger than Joeys.  She is, after all, the oldest child: propriety (and pecking order) demanded it.

It seemed that a full third of the visitors at the pumpkin patch were expatriots, although I didn't notice any Americans in the crowds: all the English-speakers appeared to be British.  And that may account for some interesting and informative signs, posted around the piles of pumpkins: "Was ist Halloween?"

But the Swiss in the crowd seemed to be doing their best to get into the spirit of the holiday.  Alongside the pumpkins, the farm was also selling ten-franc pumpkin-carving kits, which the parents dutifully purchased.  And then they plopped down, right there on the picnic tables, and scooped and carved their pumpkins.  The informational sign didn't explain that pumpkin carving is meant to be done at home, in the evening, on a kitchen table spread with newspapers and adorned with cups of cider, with "It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown" playing in the background.

We kept our pumpkins intact. We'll carve them right, especially since the farm conveniently sold fresh-pressed apple cider, which we could decant ourselves from giant glass jugs into our liter bottles.  The kids were thirsty from playing in the hay, so we gave that cider a taste test.

The kids raised their glasses in my honor. "To Mommy!"
Gee shucks, kids.

And then they ran off for another round on the pile of hay.  When I reached them, Joey was inside the tunnel, and a little Swiss girl, one at least Alex's age, was covering a protesting Joey with hay. But before I could get to him, Ella noticed Joey's predicament and stormed in, scolding. "Stopp! Du solltsest nicht! Er möchte kommen da raus! Jetzt!" I'm glad that Ella took care of the situation, because I couldn't have come close to stringing that together.  All the same, the little girl didn't pay attention to Ella, to her fury.  "Mom, that little girl is smushing hay in Joey's hair. I told her in plain German to Stopp!"  So I went in and gave the little girl a firm look that transcended all language barriers.

We all decided to leave the hay, especially since eczema-prone Joey was starting to scratch.  But the farm had one other most excellent attraction.  I know, I know...what could be better than a giant cow made of pumpkins?

A giant slingshot for shooting rubber chickens across a field, that's what. And they even, thoughtfully, provided a massive frying pan, so that someone else could catch said chickens. You can't make this stuff up.

Check out the giant pumpkin in the
background, too.

Heading home: Ella read to Captain Underpants
books to Alex the whole way home, which may
or may not have been a good thing.  We've heard
more than our fair share of poop jokes this evening.

And since nothing could top that, we left for home soon after, the kids hugging their pumpkins as they walked back to the bus.    

Granted, it was no Patterson's Fruit farm or South 47, but, truly, as far as pumpkin patches go, rubber chickens notwithstanding, this one was quite sincere. 

Linus would approve.