Katie Pumpkinhead’s Pumpkin Patch

Would you believe me if I said there was a time where even the slightest spooky thing used to scare me? Honestly, I almost don’t believe it either.  But there was a time, even though Halloween was always, and somewhat inexplicably, depending on who you asked, my favorite thing in the world from the time I was four years old, that most scary stories were a “no-no” for me. I could sit here for hours spinning yarns about the several years I spent afraid of mirrors thanks to Bloody Mary, or the nightmares induced by a monster made of slime on a show my teenage cousin was watching at our house one evening, but there is one very particular memory I’d like to talk about today. When I was little, there was a set of books in the library that I didn’t dare go near. A dark compilation of tales known as Scary Stories To Tell In The Dark. Looking at that book cover really brings me back. In my mind, the thought of opening that book was akin to opening the dreaded spell book of

"Why so sad, little pumpkin?" the girl asked. "I don't think I'm in the right place," the pumpkin replied.  "Whatever do you mean?" the girl questioned. "You are, after all, in a pumpkin patch." "It's not that I don't believe I fit in here," the pumpkin said. "I know that I'm loved. My family is here, or so it seems." "Then why do you seem so out of place?" the girl wondered.  "I just think that maybe I'm meant to be somewhere else," the pumpkin mused. "Have you ever seen a place that felt more like home than anywhere you've lived?" The girl nodded, remembering a place that lit up her heart. She closed her eyes as she remembered an autumn breeze, the sound of it rustling through the trees, bringing to life the scarecrows that lined the fence in the park that gave her peace like nothing she'd ever experienced before. She thought

There are some people who toss out their pumpkins almost the very second that Halloween ends. There are some that let them hang around until Thanksgiving, and then promptly dispose of them, because Heaven forbid we have pumpkins at Christmas. As you can probably imagine, I am neither of these. I believe in holding onto a pumpkin, and keeping it in sight, until the day comes that it’s squishy, moldy, or otherwise rotten. My record holder lasted until exactly Halfoween (that’s May 1st on the Gregorian calendar) before having to be put out to pasture. That said, we lost one yesterday. The first pumpkin of the 2019 season to depart for whatever the pumpkin version of the Rainbow Bridge might be called. (Rotting Bridge?)  Our dearly departed was purchased on my vacation to Delaware last September, from a little farm called Fifer Orchards. She (yes, she was a she, as she eventually wound up with a drawn-on face with eyelashes most human women would kill for) was known as

If you somehow haven’t already figured it out, I love Halloween decor.        Or, as I tend to refer to it, “everyday decor”. I’ve collected a lot over the years. Even in childhood I’d often choose to spend my allowance or birthday money on Halloween-related items. I’ve amassed many different items of many different styles. Pretty much anything that relates to Halloween, makes my heart happy.  I have, however, always had a particular love for vintage Halloween, which seems to be reaching its peak in my adult life. I suppose if I had to describe my particular decorating aesthetic at this point in time it would be something along the lines of “haunted pumpkin patch meets 1950s Halloween party”.  I’d own a lot more vintage decor if I had more money and space, and also if it were a little easier to find. I was incredibly lucky this past September when I took a trip to Delaware to visit my Aunt Joanne. In her area, there are loads of vintage and antique shops, far more than

  I said my New Year’s resolution was to finally start a blog, so let’s just get right into it, shall we? You may have noticed from my subject line here that my perception of the calendar is likely quite different from most.  Why is that? Because I believe we should do more of what makes us happy. And what makes me happy, is living in an eternal state of October. To say that Halloween is my life would honestly be putting it mildly. I became obsessed at the age of four, after being coaxed out from under a table by a favorite aunt and encouraged to go out and trick or treat. From that night on, I don’t think I ever really stopped talking about Halloween and looking forward to when the next one would arrive. My life became an eternal countdown to Halloween, until one day, probably much later than I should have, I realized, why wait?  Now, as what society deems an “adult”, I celebrate Halloween all year round. That is probably a good chunk of what will be found o