Have you ever wondered why I refer to my room, my blog, basically the entire little universe I’ve created, as The Pumpkin Patch?
Well, as you can probably imagine, I have a very long, very happy, very emotional history with pumpkins. I dressed as a pumpkin the first year I trick-or-treated. The first autumn event I remember experiencing outside of Halloween night itself was a class pumpkin picking trip in kindergarten, and painting the pumpkins afterward. The Great Pumpkin visited me for most of my childhood. And, for as long as I can remember, the Halloween decor displays I would set up in my childhood home (I was always the one in charge of the Halloween decorations; Halloween was not my parents’ thing.) were always referred to as “The Pumpkin Patch”.
My childhood displays consisted of more than pumpkins, of course. I would line up every Halloween item I could find, from pumpkin pails, to tiny raffia scarecrows, to ghosts made of cheesecloth, to anthropomorphic chicken McNuggets in costumes that came from McDonalds Happy Meals, on pur coffee table and around our living room. My mother sometimes told me it looked more like a garage sale than a display, but I was always pleased with myself. I simply couldn’t leave out any potential decoration. I loved when I looked in the living room and everything seemed to be orange and black, with the occasional white ghost sheet or green witch face. And for whatever reason, every year, I referred to these displays as “The Pumpkin Patch”, even going so far, when I got older and thought I had nice enough handwriting, as to make a little sign out of construction paper for my largest scarecrow at the time to stand with, declaring “Welcome to the Pumpkin Patch”. I suppose, no matter how many other decorations I had, it was, deep down, really always about the pumpkins.
As I got older, I began to realize that pumpkin people truly were, and essentially always had been, my favorite Halloween characters. I’m really not sure why. It could be the fact that they’re featured heavily in vintage Halloween imagery, which is something I’ve always been drawn to. It could also be the fact that the costume I wore on my first real Halloween was a pumpkin costume. Perhaps it has to do with the Great Pumpkin tradition my aunt and I had for so many years. Maybe it’s all these things combined, plus something more. But whatever it is, I know that pumpkin people make me the happiest.
If you’re familiar with my art doll collection at all, you‘ll most likely notice that the majority of them are, in fact, pumpkins. Over the past couple of years, as I started to realize that my collection of “normal” dolls no longer really satisfied or inspired me, I started to realize more and more that Halloween art, particularly pumpkin people, most definitely do. So why not move my collecting in the direction of what makes me happiest in the world? As I started to get back into collecting through these amazing handmade dolls that I’ve found through Instagram and Etsy (plus some from retail stores as well), I started to realize my true style and aesthetic. Suddenly my childhood dream of a “pumpkin patch” full of Halloween characters was becoming a reality, and, for possibly the first time in my life, I started to fully feel like myself.
I don’t remember exactly how I ever came up with the online surname of “Pumpkinhead” for myself. I just thought of it one day and knew that it fit, despite not really having my style fully figured out yet. I think in some way, having loved Halloween to the point of total obsession since I was four years old, I truly identify with pumpkins, only feeling alive and relevant during Halloween season. Living amongst pumpkins in an actual pumpkin patch that never dies is an absolute dream to me.
There really is no describing how at home I feel surrounded by pumpkins. It feels, no jack o’lantern joke intended, like something just lights up inside me, and I’m where I’m meant to be. The longing I feel when I think about pumpkin patches or places like The Great Jack O’Latern Blaze is a poignant homesickness, and I am forever counting down the days until I can be at these places again. Sometimes I stare out the window, looking out over the roads and the hills and the mountains, just thinking about the fact that somewhere out there, pumpkins are growing, or being carved for the Blaze, etc. It’s always the most comforting thought.
It’s funny how my silly little childhood nickname for my display of decorations has come to mean so much more to me in my adult life. I didn’t realize when I was five years old that I was defining what would make me happiest in the world as my life went on. I truly don’t know how I ever became so attached to pumpkin, if it was the events of my childhood, the costume I wore on the Halloween that would ultimately define me, or if it’s just something that’s always been wired into my brain, but whatever it is, I’m glad it’s there. I wouldn’t be me without it.
Stay spooky, my friends.
Comments
Post a Comment