Life is a journey, even for a pumpkin.
For some unknown and probably troubling reason, I have always been fascinated by the slow deterioration of jack-o-lanterns. Perhaps this is the hidden reason for my disappointment when the first pumpkins I bought for face carving rotted on my back steps before ever going under the knife.
Not to be dissuaded, I took myself back out to the farm market and purchased a slightly more expensive yet fresher specimen. I took it home under the guise that Hannah would enjoy carving a pumpkin while listening to winds of Hurricane Sandy. And, if we lost power, a happy pumpkin would make an excellent light source.
I am well aware that scores of smiling post-Halloween jack-o-lanterns get tossed into the street courtesy of local pumpkin smashing hoodlums. Although not quite as likely on an out-of-the-way country road, I opted to take the safe route and found the little guy a safe spot on the back steps where he shined his golden light on several dark nights. When the nights turned cold and frosty, I decided my friend might be better off in the corner of my flower garden, still close to the house but in a place where he could deteriorate undisturbed.
For several days of cool nights and temperate afternoons he sat smiling at passersby, virtually unchanged in appearance, and then one day he swallowed his hat and I knew the process had begun. He never got that toothless look that some pumpkins attain, and once his face started to droop the drop came in rapid succession. I suspect tomorrow there won't be much shape left to him at all.
I think next year I'll carve a whole row of pumpkin faces. :)