It's pumpkin season, or should I say pre-pumpkin season, since it begins so early? I'm not complaining; I'm a real fan and devotee of all things pumpkin! First of all, orange is my favorite color, and I'm a seasonal type of person. Maybe this comes from probably my only favorite chore of school teaching – decorating the bulletin boards.

Even there I was over the top. There was a deep, three-tiered glass showcase at one of the three schools where, many moons ago, I taught elementary art for almost six years. A fellow teacher stood in front of my Thanksgiving display. It featured pilgrims with long, plaited Rapunzel-like hair created using yarn, pumpkins and turkeys made from construction paper, and speckled Indian corn cobs. "Oh, Miss Bounds!" she exclaimed. "You've really outdone yourself. This is beautiful!" She stood there transfixed, her jumbo handbag resting heavily on her arm.

Then the skinflint principal's reflection flared behind us in the glass showcase windows, his arms crossed like a big no! "Extravagant as usual, Miss Bounds! You've wasted yarn and paper!" he muttered behind thin, disapproving lips, with his lime-green polyester leisure suit glowing like a fluorescent magic marker. Not helping his overall appearance were his white socks and black shoes peeking out from under the Archie Bunker-style high-water cuffs of his ugly pants.

Maybe I should have been a store window decorator instead. I used to dream of being free on a weekday and strolling down 5th Avenue in New York, window shopping like Holly Golightly in "Breakfast at Tiffany's," instead of staring out the 18-by-18-inch window of the art room behind the heavy maroon velvet stage curtain, gazing at chicken feathers floating through the air and hearing lunchroom chatter in the background.

However, much time has passed, and I escaped! Now, I experience the early advent of the seasonal display in Michael's or Hobby Lobby, maybe even Walmart. Orange pumpkins and garlands of artificial autumn leaves spill into the fluorescent-lit aisles. Black and orange paint becomes scarce, and skeletons and skulls peer menacingly behind giant fake pumpkins that Jeff Bezos might shoot to the moon in a rocket from the now defunct Punkin' Chunkin. Speaking of Punkin Chunkin, I tried it once, but my old purple Ford Escort broke down in the high grass of the field, and the Milton Fire Department had to rescue me.

I also visited the Apple-Scrapple Festival in Bridgeville once as a spectator. It was huge, too much for me to navigate again. I'm a Milton Sausage and Rapa Scrapple fan, as you may know, and I should consume more apples, but don't.

Now, there's pumpkin everything, anytime, anywhere by mid-August. All three of my children were baristas at Starbucks as teenagers. I consumed more free pumpkin spice lattes that they brought home than I care to admit. I've fallen victim to the edible pumpkin offerings at Food Lion the last couple of shopping trips this year. Pumpkin creamers of all brands and stripes, pumpkin cookies, spiced wafers, pumpkin spread and bread, and even pumpkin cream cheese, ice cream and whipped cream. Candy corn in pumpkin-headed shakers rattled my name and landed in my cart as I pushed it toward the door.

Of course, I had to put a pumpkin pie in the freezer. There may be a shortage, after all! And then some pseudo-healthy apple cider full of pectin to wash it all down was my ode to Apple-Scrapple. I just love seeing all of the orange containers on my refrigerator shelf, that's why.

Finally, there's the pumpkin patch to wind your way through. I've included a photo of one of my three grandsons, Jamie Seemans. He's a real superkid! I've never been one of those grandmothers carrying around a library of photos, but he's really cute, if I do say so myself. He's splayed out on a bed of gourds and pumpkins that match his red hair, befooted in Pippi Longstocking striped socks like an adorable elf. He just started kindergarten and is a happy extrovert. Maybe we'll take him and his brother Owen and cousin Rory to Kohr's for pumpkin spice ice cream cones sometime before Halloween and the Sea Witch Parade.

It seems I've turned on the maple syrup spigot of my mind again and written an impassioned ode to pumpkins with a cornucopia of autumnal delights spilling out on paper as I paint with words tonight.