Pumpkin Carving
On banishing the dark.
It’s messy work, scooping handful after handful of guts ‘till the whole thing’s hollowed out. Years ago, I’d carve pumpkins in my apartment, newspaper spread out to keep the floor from getting sticky, and put the finished product in my windowsill, two floors up, for someone—maybe no one?—to see.
My signature is a cat with whiskers. I can’t say, after so much practice, that I’ve perfected the art, but my latest got a good review. My son, seeing it on the stoop come morning, held out his chubby hand and beckoned, kitty, kitty, come over here.
Don't miss what's next. Subscribe to Enthusiasms: