I’d lived my whole life in the small, idyllic farming town of Harvest Hill, where the annual pumpkin festival is more than just an event; it’s a cherished tradition that brings the entire community together. Every fall, the townsfolk gather in the town square, surrounded by the glowing red and yellow of autumn leaves, to celebrate the season’s bounty and compete for the coveted title of the largest pumpkin. For years, I had dreamed of winning that prize, but this year my hopes were higher than ever. Nestled at the edge of town, my modest farmhouse is surrounded by meticulously tended gardens. Each morning, I wake at dawn, don my gardening gloves, and tend to my plants with the care…