A few days ago, my family and I went to the pumpkin patch. It was our first time getting them in California instead of Illinois. I marveled on how different this familiar scene was.

There was still rows of pumpkins, glowing orange in the sunlight. There was still corn, stretching out as far as I could see. There were still kids, going from pumpkin to pumpkin, excitedly racing to find the biggest one. There was still the smell of hay in the air, and birds crowing from above.  But it was also warm enough that I was wearing shorts and a T-shirt instead of jeans and a jacket, despite it being October. There was no tractor drive out to the pumpkin patch, and the pumpkins are pre-cut off the vine, lined up in perfect rows. There was also, across the road, the ocean. It looked so out of place, sparkling in the background. The oranges and greens of the pumpkin patch clashed with the blues and whites of the water, painting a different picture then I was used to.