Several years ago, I went to the pumpkin patch at my favorite local farm, and picked what looked like a perfect pumpkin, right off the vine. I proudly photographed it, and buckled it into the backseat of the car like a child on the way back home. It sat, beautiful and majestic, in the living room, until the day before Halloween, my traditional day for pumpkin carving in the years when I felt so inclined. This was a particularly trying year, as Hurricane Sandy had just happened and the celebration of Halloween was uncertain. Carving that pumpkin was going to be my salvation, if everything else got cancelled. I stuck the carving knife in, and was devastated to find that my perfect pumpkin, that I’d been so proud of all month long, was actually rotten inside. This was devastating to me. I still loved that pumpkin, still was proud of my pick, and treasured the pictures I’d taken of it and the other memories from that day. But I was left to wonder if there was somet...