Read by Michael Flamel

OOnce upon a time, in the heart of the rolling hills of Iowa, there stood a charming family farm known as the McAllister Homestead. For generations, the McAllister clan had tilled the soil, herded cattle, and grown their roots as deep as the cornstalks that swayed in the summer breeze. It was a place where the values of hard work, resilience, and laughter were as abundant as the harvest itself.

The patriarch of the McAllister clan was Old Farmer Jack, a weathered but wise man with a twinkle in his eye and a hat that had seen more seasons than he could remember. Every morning, he’d rise with the rooster’s crow and march out to the barn, calling out, “Rise and shine, y’all! The day won’t wait!”

His daughter, Sarah, was the heart and soul of the farm. She could milk a cow, mend a fence, and bake a cherry pie that could make a grown man cry. She taught her children, Jake and Emily, the secrets of the land, and they, in turn, became the fourth generation of McAllistersto farm the same fertile fields.

One sunny morning, as the McAllister clan gathered around the kitchen table for breakfast, Old Farmer Jack announced, “Today’s the day, kids! It’s time to harvest the giant pumpkin for the county fair.”

The giant pumpkin was a family tradition that dated back as far as anyone could remember. Every year, they’d carefully nurture a pumpkin, feeding it sunshine and love until it grew to epic proportions. This year, it was Jake’s turn to tend to the great orange beast.

Jake and Emily skipped out to the garden, their faces flushed with excitement. “It’s as big as a tractor, Jake!” Emily exclaimed.

Jake grinned and patted the pumpkin affectionately. “That’s right, sis. This pumpkin’s gonna be a legend.”

With a lot of heaving and ho-ing, they finally managed to load the colossal pumpkin onto the back of the old pickup truck. As they drove it to the county fair, their laughter echoed through the fields, a joyful symphony of family unity.

At the fair, they carefully positioned the pumpkin on display, and people marveled at its enormity. “That’s gotta be a record-breaker!” one fairgoer exclaimed.

The McAllisters proudly stood by their giant pumpkin, basking in the admiration of the community. Old Farmer Jack’s eyes twinkled as he looked at his family, realizing that the real treasure of the farm wasn’t the giant pumpkin—it was the generations of McAllisters who had worked side by side, tending to the land, and nurturing their bonds.

As the sun set over the fair, and the sounds of laughter and the smell of funnel cakes filled the air, Sarah turned to her father. “You know, Dad, this farm has been our rock, our anchor. It’s given us so much more than giant pumpkins.”

Old Farmer Jack nodded, his heart swelling with pride. “That’s right, my dear. It’s given us each other, and that’s the greatest harvest of all.”

And so, under the twinkling stars of the Iowa night, the McAllisters shared a hearty laugh, knowing that the joy of family farming was more than just a tradition—it was the root of their strength, their love, and their enduring bond. ❖