This year’s harvest brought something new for What a Witch. The harvest’s beauty brought a little baby pumpkin. The new addition has us looking at our favorite season from a different perspective—one we have not looked from in some time. One of innocence.
For What a Witch, gone are the days of blood, guts, and gore. Now the Halloween holiday is filled with cute pumpkins, sweet treats and pajamas with dinosaur feet, and chubby cartoon ghosts. What goes bump in the night, and haunts All Hallow’s Eve, is taking on a more family-friendly air.
We’ve had the joy of introducing some of the autumn season’s magical things to our little pumpkin. A walk through the cemetery on a sunny day, the smell of mums in the peak or their blossom (did you know mums have smell?); the sound of rustling leaves. The morning we took our walk, child and stroller in tow, was bright and warm. Fall was just beginning to peak out at us—in the flowering mums planted in 100 year old urns, in the deep red just beginning to seep into the trees. There was something so peaceful and sacred in walking around with the little one, passing beneath trees, seeing the lakes and the spiders spinning their webs. Reading names from stones, remembering if only for a moment the people who have come to rest in the cemetery, walking silently through the Chapel deep within the cemetery.
The next week we took the little pumpkin to meet the great pumpkin, to a local pumpkin patch. On a Sunday morning in the later fall, at a farm in the country where goats ran free and horses watched from the barn, we took a horse-drawn wagon ride over the farm and to the pumpkin patch; a gray but nevertheless beautiful fall day. Pumpkins lay scattered on the ground, their vines twisting from the earth, and here and there were pumpkin guts and seeds from those gourds which fared less fortunately.
We look forward to the years to come where we can watch the joy of the season grow, and last, through a child’s eyes.
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