Katie Pumpkinhead’s Pumpkin Patch

  It's September 9th and I've spent the day depressed. Yesterday was my birthday. I briefly think about the fact that when I was younger, on the internet, I always said my birthday was the 9th rather than the 8th, because back then, giving out personal information online was a terrifying idea.  It's funny how things change. My birthday this year, well, it was a disaster. And that had everything to do with how hot and sunny it was.  I've never considered myself a summer baby. September is fall, whether it's the 1st or the 30th. The last stepping stone on the way to October; one of two months that truly feels similar to it. September the Hopeful, and November the Mournful.  But I guess this year, Mother Nature just had to tell me I was wrong. I won't forgive the demon summer for striking me down on what was supposed to be my special day. Seasonal depression can only be endured for so long. Tonight, though, I step outside, and the wind picks up. It sounds like a ho...

 Today is my birthday. I have never considered myself a “summer baby”, despite the fact that the Gregorian date of September 8th isn’t quite autumn. To me, September means fall, no matter what society or the temperature have to say about it.  My Halloween soul has always felt fortunate that my birthday falls when it does. Despite the fact that, in childhood, my birthday also meant the start of the school year, my compensation for that was the fact that it also meant the start of what’s now referred to as “spooky season”. When I was younger, I obviously wasn’t able to stalk the stores for Halloween decor in the same way that I do now. I have no recollection of ever really seeing Halloween decor on shelves before September until I was almost fourteen. So, my birthday truly felt like the start of Halloween season, as if the entire world was giving me a two-month long gift.  As money started coming in the mail from extended family, it gave me comfort to know that the next tim...