Katie Pumpkinhead’s Pumpkin Patch

 Here is a very interesting fact about myself that I recently remembered: The first holiday I ever tried to preserve and continue to celebrate after it was over, actually wasn't Halloween. It was Easter. When I was very small, my mother had window clings for every holiday. (I actually have a post about the scarecrow that went up at Halloween and stayed up through Thanksgiving  here .) As a little girl who liked particularly girly things at the time (I believe this happened somewhere between the ages of four and six), the Easter clings were actually my favorite, particularly the little lamb. For whatever reason, that particular year, I couldn't bear the thought of those clings being packed away for another three-hundred-and-something days, and begged my mother to move them into my window in my bedroom so I could enjoy them year round. She agreed, albeit reluctantly, and the Easter clings adorned my window until they eventually dried out and shriveled up from the summer heat, mu...

  The shadows in the cemetery that day were unlike anything I'd ever seen before. It was more than a cloudy afternoon. It felt ominous, like a warning. A warning I should have heeded ages ago, if I'm honest. I look back on every tear shed, every whispered word, every time I should have put a stop to a desperate fairytale that was spinning out of control. I question my sanity, when I look back on it. Who was I? Or perhaps, who was I  trying  to be, and for what purpose?  Why was I looking for something I'd had all along?  I'll never forget how blue the sky was, the moment hope returned.  I had to shut my eyes to see clearly, but when I opened them again, the world was vivid, as if that shadowy night never happened. Or, at the very least, happened somewhere far, far away.  As I finally stood up again, I nearly tripped over my own feet, like a newborn animal. Rebirth, it seems, was the theme of the day. I felt something catch me, holding me steady once mo...

I remember a car ride with my parents. I'm not entirely sure how old I was. Middle school aged, I believe. My father commented on how, in about a week or so, the clocks would move forward, and it would stay light out later into the evening hours. I always tried not to really listen to my parents' conversations in the car, or at least not let on that I was. But this time, for some reason, I blurted out in response "How depressing." I believe this may have been the first time I ever expressed that out loud. I've never cared for spring, and especially not summer, even in childhood. Even when I didn't realize I was doing it, I was always searching for Halloween, in everything around me. And what is more reminiscent of Halloween, in the treacherous off-season, than bare trees, dead leaves, and darkness?  Putting my aversion to warm weather and sunlight aside, spring comes along and breaks the illusion. It's hard to get lost in the memory of trick-or-treating, o...

 I can't remember the last time I went for a walk before today. It may actually have been Christmas Day, as I was sick for most of January and the earlier part of February. That strange period of time when last Halloween is so close, yet so far Today I set out, on my usual route, half happy to have the time, energy, and daylight to finally go off in search of inspiration once again, and half annoyed at the sunlight in my eyes and the knowledge of the imminent boss battle ahead of me, as it's already starting to feel like summer and it's not even officially spring. It felt strange, in a way, to be walking that way again, after so long. On my last walk, I felt the strange melancholy of a post-holiday world, combined with the Christmas facade falling away. I was standing on the borderline of autumn and winter, while today I almost felt as if I were walking the plank between winter's pirate ship and spring and summer's endless ocean.  Memories of autumn flooded me, as I...