Yesterday we drove out into the country to what my father had remembered as a rustic fruit stand that sold pumpkins this time of year. Signs led the way down the winding two-lane road.

But when we arrived it didn’t long to realize that the corner orchard had become an autumn carnival. Hundreds of cars were parked in rows across the grassy fields. Employees with flags directed traffic. We were waved into a handicapped spot (yes!) and made our way slowly out of the car and up to the packed pumpkin patch.

There were many varieties of apples — Granny Smith, Delicious and McIntosh — and Asian pears. There was cider, spiced and regular. There were gourds of various shapes and sizes. And because this is Kentucky, there was a reedy sculpture of … a horse.

Most of all, there was the autumn sun, out again after a brief shower, shining on the pumpkins.