Shouldn't…but Do

There is a pumpkin sitting in the street. Just about muskmelon size. Its longevity undoubtedly owing to the toothless smile that was rendered upon its face by a permanent ink marker, rather than a knife.

Stemless and bleached a somewhat pale flesh color by the elements, it is facing east, perhaps awaiting the next dawn. It wasn’t there yesterday.

The sudden appearance of the pumpkin is strange, it has the dimply look of a melon whose stringy insides are held together only by its uninterrupted skin, its internal fortitude gone. It sits flat on the asphalt, gravity no longer a friend.

That pumpkin is out of its time. In this area, such a cucurbit is a trapping of October, not a dull January day when white sky matches dirty white snow.

Pumpkins don’t care about Halloween, or even about pies, they just look like they do. Nature made that squishy, bleached pumpkin to spread its seeds around, a few more toothless smiles. The fact that it is still whole defies its potential. Sometimes a little bust-up is needed to spread out new ideas for the future.

I could go out and scoop up that fella, move him safely to a snowbank. But that is a pumpkin with destiny, it has lasted this long, I have to see how the story ends. I’ll keep you posted.