Katie Pumpkinhead’s Pumpkin Patch

 2020 was, most definitely, a strange year. There are many things that happened over the course of the year that I would consider “notable”, in many different ways.  But one of the most interesting things that happened in 2020, was meeting a very special pumpkin on September 29th. As you may or may not know, I work in a grocery store. And, every year, we get a decent amount of pumpkins in, though every year, the variety diminishes a bit. When I first started working, we often had pumpkin wonderlands in the months of September and October. Maybe not as much as the local farms got, but we had many pumpkins of many sizes and colors, some painted, some with hats or fuzzy hair, one year even a giant one that was priced over $300. As the years have gone on, though, the pumpkin selection at work has gotten very basic. Just your typical orange pumpkins, in small, medium, or large. (And, annoyingly, not to be seen again after Halloween. In the old days, we’d have a handful available th...

 On October third, I stumbled across a very small pumpkin at work.  He was the type of pumpkin my mother would have encouraged me to choose when I was little, or so it seemed at first. My mother always thought anything that would eventually rot away was a waste of money, so my eagerness to purchase pumpkins was not her favorite aspect of my personality. She would point me toward the smaller, and thus less expensive ones. I distinctly remember finding one so tiny at a local farm one year, that the woman running the cash register went and got her manager and asked, “This is considered a pumpkin, right? Not a gourd?” (The really teeny pumpkins, most commonly called Jack Be Little nowadays, were generally referred to as gourds back then, at least around here, perhaps because they were in the same price range as the decorative gourds.) I can still hear her voice, perfectly, in my mind.  When I saw this little pumpkin at work, I was immediately transported back to that day, and...

 Everyone has moments in their life when they feel like giving up. That feeling of “This is never going to happen, so why keep trying?” Sometimes it relates to a thing that would be trivial to anyone else, sometimes it’s about something more life-altering. But, we’ve all been there. I have moments of discouragement with this blog. Times I’ve told myself, “No one cares”, or “No one will read this”, etc., but I continue on, for the joy of it. And sometimes, something amazing happens. If you haven’t read my previous post,  Have You Seen This Pumpkin? , I would strongly suggest doing so before continuing on with this story. The short version is, I saw a pumpkin in someone’s window when I was twelve years old, and have spent the last twenty-one years trying to find it for myself.  When I published that post, I wasn’t expecting much of a response. I was really just hoping to hear someone say, “Yes, my family had this pumpkin when I was a kid!” Or “I once saw this in a neighbor’...

 Let’s go on a journey today, back to Halloween season 1999. 1999 was an odd year for Yours Ghoul-ly. I was twelve years old and had just started middle school, and to say it was a hard transition would be an understatement. As someone who had few friends to begin with, being put in a larger, more bustling environment made me feel more alone than ever. Learning the ropes, both relating to the new school environment and being a “pre-teen” when I still felt very much like a child, was difficult. I lived for the weekends, and on Sunday nights, my stomach would tie itself in knots in the way only a scared child’s can. It was very difficult for me to think of anything else, because I knew my next school day was always looming right around the corner. Even the most important things to me tend to get lost in times of major transitions, as if I forget who I am for a bit. There was a Saturday afternoon that year, though, that would change everything, and become a very important part of my H...

Two years ago today, my life was very different. I was on the brink of a major life transition, and very little made me smile at the time. When Spirit Halloween’s sneak peeks were announced that year, I wasn’t sure how I would feel. I wanted to feel something, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to buy much, having no real idea where my life was headed. At the time, I was worried that my Halloween collecting days might even be over. But, amidst a sea of uncertainty, there was a glimmer of hope that came in the form of an animatronic pumpkin known as the  Pumpkin Patch Prowler .  As I’ve mentioned before, prior to the last couple of years of collecting, I didn’t really have a particular aesthetic goal when it came to what I bought, but one thing I’ve always been certain of, above all else, is that I love pumpkin people. And when I watched the video linked to above, it was like I was looking at a character from one of my best dreams.  I didn’t dare even consider the fact that I c...

I have something truly incredible to share today! Since I truly got into Halloween collecting in my adult life, one thing I have always wanted is one of those old paper maché pumpkins.  I first came across them while trying to find information on a die cut pumpkin decoration that’s been a grail item of mine since I was about twelve years old. I don’t think I realized what a market there was for vintage Halloween items until I, almost inadvertently, started looking. Somewhere in my search, though I never did find what I was initially looking for, I started to see all of these incredibly unique little pumpkins, that brought to mind a completely different era in time. Most of them had their mouths in a permanent “O” shape, as if either surprised or frightened. And, due to their age, they each had particular “defects” that only seemed to add to their character. You couldn’t help but look at them and wonder what they’d seen; what they’d been through. What was Halloween like when these l...

Once upon a time, there was a girl who loved pumpkins. Not all pumpkins can last forever, though. So there came a day when one of her pumpkins started to rot. Luckily, the girl had a beloved sister. Maybe they weren’t connected by blood, but they were bonded together by mutual understanding and acceptance. Her sister carved the pumpkin into a tiny jack o’lantern for the girl and all of her spooky Halloween friends. “Where did the pumpkin go?” Little Horus the ghost asked one night. Calling upon Sam to come and investigate.  “Something ate him!” said Sam. “A raccoon, most likely. I do hope it was a nice meal.” “And now” said Sam “I have a nice hat!”

"Why so sad, little pumpkin?" the girl asked. "I don't think I'm in the right place," the pumpkin replied.  "Whatever do you mean?" the girl questioned. "You are, after all, in a pumpkin patch." "It's not that I don't believe I fit in here," the pumpkin said. "I know that I'm loved. My family is here, or so it seems." "Then why do you seem so out of place?" the girl wondered.  "I just think that maybe I'm meant to be somewhere else," the pumpkin mused. "Have you ever seen a place that felt more like home than anywhere you've lived?" The girl nodded, remembering a place that lit up her heart. She closed her eyes as she remembered an autumn breeze, the sound of it rustling through the trees, bringing to life the scarecrows that lined the fence in the park that gave her peace like nothing she'd ever experienced before. She thought ...

There are some people who toss out their pumpkins almost the very second that Halloween ends. There are some that let them hang around until Thanksgiving, and then promptly dispose of them, because Heaven forbid we have pumpkins at Christmas. As you can probably imagine, I am neither of these. I believe in holding onto a pumpkin, and keeping it in sight, until the day comes that it’s squishy, moldy, or otherwise rotten. My record holder lasted until exactly Halfoween (that’s May 1st on the Gregorian calendar) before having to be put out to pasture. That said, we lost one yesterday. The first pumpkin of the 2019 season to depart for whatever the pumpkin version of the Rainbow Bridge might be called. (Rotting Bridge?)  Our dearly departed was purchased on my vacation to Delaware last September, from a little farm called Fifer Orchards. She (yes, she was a she, as she eventually wound up with a drawn-on face with eyelashes most human women would kill for) was know...