Katie Pumpkinhead’s Pumpkin Patch

  My inner child's insistence at embracing Christmas has proven fruitful this year.  I will never love another holiday like I love Halloween. I never have, even as a child waiting for Santa Claus. It's a nice feeling, but never the same.  After plans to take pictures at a nearby farm fell through this afternoon, I decide to go for a walk instead. A short one, as it gets dark early now, and somehow I don't feel nearly as safe as I did when I wandered the neighborhood after dark in October. It's funny how you can feel like you're in a spooky movie, but still feel safer, more at home, than on the most benign of days.  I snap a picture of the landscape before me; a part of the neighborhood that I remember taking a few pictures of in October, and suddenly I feel so far away from those days.   I remember looking at this same stretch of street, longing to get lost, to find the portal that would trap me in a time loop where October never had to end. And yet...it ended. ...

  One of the strangest things about autumn is how you can watch it deteriorate. It comes in so bright and beautiful, so alive, despite it all. Everything is so colorful. The world seems to be bursting at the seams in anticipation of a celebration; posing for a picture of a moment in time that will gone all too soon. Each time the wind blows it feels like a pleasant hello, the leaves waving.  The world feels full of potential. And acceptance. So much acceptance.  Halloween comes, and then it goes. And suddenly everything goes strangely silent. From magical to mournful. It's like being at an amusement park after it closes. Everything is still there, it's just so quiet and hollow now. Eerie, almost. Desolate in a way that doesn't quite make sense. It looks almost the same...shouldn't it feel the same? The last leaves flutter to the ground, and I can't tell if they're sad to go or desperate to catch up to their brethren. Afraid to be left behind.  Then suddenly they...

  They tell me the season hasn't changed. That it's still autumn. And yet, everything feels different. Painfully so.  On the mornings I have a little extra time, I drink my coffee outside, just as I did in October. And I look up at the trees, up at the sky that once seemed to radiate anticipation and excitement, and listen to the wind that once seemed to whisper the secrets of a thousand ghosts; carry the voices of hundreds of pumpkins from miles around as their candles illuminated their mouths, and I see nothing but death and desolation. I watch the leaves fall, brown and brittle. They remind me of dry, cracked skin in winter, ready to split open and bleed...bleed out the last of autumn, only their blood is invisible. Colorless, like November itself. I watch a sad group of leaves scatter about, scurrying like the family members that stayed too long at the party and now politely being shooed away. I notice one of them hitting newly every branch on the way down, as if trying to...

  Post-Halloween depression is something I've dealt with for my most of my life.  Even when I was much younger and didn't have the language to describe how I was feeling, I remember the agonizing feeling of knowing I would have to wait another year upon returning home for the evening on October 31st. There were many Halloween nights where I would cry that it was over, or go to bed wishing the Halloween night I'd just experienced was a dream, so that I could wake up and do it all over again for real. There was the year I tried to extend it with  Halloweek , and the year when I was  fourteen , when I think I really started to figure out how to express it, and recognize the longing that I felt all year round. I even once started writing a story about a little girl discovering she was actually a witch, after grappling with post-Halloween depression for several years in a row.  This has always been who I am.  But recently I saw something that bothered me a bit, ...

  I went on a drive today. The sky was grey and gloomy, and yellow leaves on almost-bare branches painted it, a little more staggered now than they'd been a two weeks ago.  The wind made them dance, along with the already-brown leaves on the ground, occasionally swirling up and around, as if wondering where to go from here.  Pumpkins smiled at me from some doorsteps; perhaps more than I was expecting in this pre-Christmas world we've entered. Their smiles were different now, though. Less enthusiastic, more melancholy, more knowing.  I could almost hear their thoughts, contemplating the season's end, just so happy to be noticed. It is still autumn, after all.  Decorations lingered on some houses. Hanging ghouls plastered to trees by the on-and-off rain. Twelve-foot skeletons left standing alone, as their more easily packed up brethren have been gone since November 1st morn. Orange lights now shining like a beacon to no one at all.  It's hard to believe these...

 One year when I was much younger, around middle school age, I think, I was out trick-or-treating and stumbled upon a house whose front porch was adorned with orange lights. It sounds so commonplace now, but back then, in the late 90s or early 2000s, whichever it was, huge Halloween displays with bright lights and things like that, weren't really a thing yet. I remember walking up the stairs to that doorway, and feeling so enchanted. Like I was in the middle of a jack o'lantern, or some other realm entirely.  No one answered the door there; I assume they were probably out trick-or-treating with their own children, but I couldn't help but linger. I remember my aunt, down in the driveway, trying to wave me back, telling me I wasn't going to get any candy there.  And I knew that. I just didn't want to leave. Somehow it just felt right for me to be standing within those lights. I felt like my truest self there, somehow, like I was right where I was supposed to be.  It w...

 Sometimes I truly feel like this is the hardest point on the road back to Halloween. I spend November mourning, and soaking up what is left of autumn. The remnants of Halloween still linger, though not as much as I wish that they would. December brings the inevitable start of Christmas, despite that fact that many have been locked in since the second the clock struck midnight on November 1st. It becomes my battle, in a way, to keep Halloween alive when everyone is so distracted. To be a voice for those of us who, maybe, don't find Christmas time quite as merry. I am a safe space, not only for myself, but to the others that need Halloween as much as I do.  It's hard not to get distracted. As December descends into its final week before the supposed "big day", I get lost in nostalgia. I don't, necessarily, want to fall down the Christmas rabbit hole, the way Jack Skellington did, but I think about it. And the thought, the memory, becomes all-consuming for a few day...

  I've not cared much for December for many years now.  Adulthood came, and confiscated the magic of Christmas.  I guess I never really minded, as I've always felt I have something much more magical.  But still, I look around at the colorful lights and smiling characters adorning the lawns now, where the skeletons and pumpkins and ghosts stood not long ago at all, and I feel resentment. Society forgets that November is still, very much, autumn. The world forgets to hold space for the remaining pumpkins and scarecrows, anymore.  But I watch for them. I've learned to treat November like an extension of October. A funeral, of sorts. I celebrate the fact that it happened, and search for the remnants around me. This year, though, it hasn't been easy.  October, for the most part, felt like an extension of summer. Halloween came with a high of 83 degrees and blazing sun, as if October itself wanted to wear a costume that made it almost unrecognizable. It felt more...

 The way I feel about Halloween's end is strange this year.  It's taken me almost this entire week to really process that it's "over"... I'm not sure if the weather had something to do with that, as it was 83 degrees on Halloween day. I think, perhaps, that made it feel more like the period in summer when it feels like Halloween season because there are things in the stores, but you know it's not actually October yet.  So much of October was sunny and dry....I don't think we had a single gloomy day. Temperature wise, I think I can count on one hand the number of days where it actually felt like autumn. I had a good time, tried to soak in that October feeling as much as I could (and ultimately I think I was more present in it this year than I have been in awhile), but it was quite depressing to feel so summery during the time of year I wait for, that's already so very fleeting as it is. It felt a bit like having an uninvited guest, someone determine...

Do I rush the seasons? Probably. Autumn has always been the only season for me. The other seasons have their moments, some more than others, but I never feel as alive as I do in September and October. I don't necessarily mean to wish time away, but I can't help but yearn for what sets my heart ablaze, whether it's the dead of winter, the start of spring, or a day those unlike myself would deem 'perfect beach weather'.  Everyone has things they love, things they surround themselves with to make the most out of life. Mine just happens to be 'seasonal'.  Even as Halloween becomes more popular within mainstream society, so many people still don't understand the desire to hold onto that feeling all year round. Sometimes, even those within the Halloween community act like it takes away from things somehow, while I know I'd be miserable if I didn't live my life the way I do. I have tried to give it up, a few different times for a few different reasons, ...

 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...

The end of Valentine’s Day has been weighing heavily on my mind. Being my second-favorite holiday, I suppose that’s to be expected…but the truth is, I feel the weight of the end of every  holiday. It doesn't matter if it's a holiday I celebrate or not. It can be a big holiday, like Christmas, or a small one, like Saint Patrick's Day. It can even be a holiday from a different culture, that I may actually know very little about.  For the few days after every holiday, I feel a strange heaviness.  It's never as all-consuming as it is for me immediately after Halloween. Valentine's Day comes somewhat close but, of course, doesn't quite touch it. Still, though... I look at the leftover decorations, the clearance aisles, the social media posts from the previous days, and I feel strangely about it. I think of how painful it is for me, to watch Halloween get torn down, stored away, reduced to a fifty-percent-off pile of candy corn on a grocery store display. On February ...

 I am still going on post-Halloween depression walks on Christmas Eve. I am always looking for the remnants of Halloween. Not just the forgotten decorations, or the pumpkins still fighting for their place in this world, but also the feelings. The dead leaves. The memories. The smell in the air. The ghost that whispers to me, You didn’t dream it.   It’s so easy to get lost in Christmas, whether you enjoy it or not. I think I do it, too, albeit briefly, but it’s impossible not to when it suffocates the world for so long. This afternoon I found myself watching some Christmas-themed films from my youth, trying to feel something. It’s beaten so far into our heads that we’re supposed to feel something this time of year, that we have to. I lose myself to the desperation and depression. I lose myself to the memories of a childhood that will never return, to feelings I can’t and won’t get back. December is like a funeral…for childhood, for autumn, for different variations of myself. It...

 November 1st used to be my least favorite day of the year. It's painful, still, but in a different way than it used to be. It is both a funeral and a celebration of life. A day of reflection, and some kind of triumph, to see myself and the remaining Halloween decorations still standing. It's difficult, but a strange kind of difficult. I'm coming to realize that the actual hardest day of the year for me, might in fact be the day after Thanksgiving. I believe I have said this over the course of multiple years: Thanksgiving is the final breath of autumn. I held onto it in childhood, despite my dislike of it then, because the pumpkins and scarecrows, and sometimes, still, the ghosts and bats and spiders and whatever else, would often hold on through then. Autumn lingered, though grayer and more bitter, more brittle, but it was still there, through Thanksgiving Day. The world has evolved in the strangest of ways...I have watched Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas compete wi...

 It's been two weeks now since Halloween.  This year, I was able to hold onto things a little more than usual, with continued events and multiple trips to The Great Jack O'Lantern Blaze, but it's finally hitting me now that the official time of Halloween is, in fact, over. It's funny, because when I say this on social media, I suddenly get flooded with people telling me it's not really over, or that it's always in my heart. (Or my least favorite, trying to push me into the, spooky or otherwise, Christmas spirit. Please read  this post  before you attempt to go down that road.)  The strange thing is, I know these things. I very obviously know how to hold onto Halloween despite calendar dates.When it comes to my free time, I essentially live completely outside the confines of a calendar. And yet, I can't help but feel that heaviness now, two weeks later, as Halloween gets put away and forgotten once again by the outside world.  What does it mean when I say I ...

 Every year I talk about November 1st...it's such a confusing day. It makes me feel so many emotions all at once. Mournful, depressed, angry...It's like a slap in the face shoving us into a new month, forcing us to forget what came just hours before. Last year, I did have somewhat of  an epiphany  regarding the month of November as a whole, and while I do my best to keep my own past words in mind, that doesn't make today any easier. Or easy to explain, for that matter. I suppose I should speak from my heart.  Today I feel detached from reality, as if I don't really exist. Like there is no longer a place in the world for me. Just yesterday everything I loved made sense, and was loved and revered by everyone else as well. I felt like I fit. But now, today, I see those same things being quickly shoved away. Less than twenty-four hours after trick-or-treating time began, it's all being swept under the rug. The season culminated and the world is no longer a place I recog...

 January is, perhaps, the strangest time on the countdown to Halloween. The classic cliche of "so close, yet so far." So hopeful, yet so hopeless. Sure, we can now say "this Halloween"...but it feels further away than ever, as all the remnants of last Halloween have gone for good. November hurts, because the countdown resets then. So many days, weeks, months to go until the world transforms again. An entire year. And yet, it somehow doesn't seem so far away, as the sky clouds over in mourning and the remaining decorations, maybe forgotten, maybe triumphant, move in a sudden breeze as if to say, "It did happen. It was real. "  These little scraps of leftover Halloween are the strangest combination of sadness and hope. It feels so far away, yet so close at the same time. As if the door hasn't shut quite yet. If December doesn't slam the door in your face, though, January certainly does. Any stray pumpkin that may have survived November, Thanksgiv...