Halloween has changed since I was a kid. Just in the jack-o-lantern department alone. The plain Jane orange pumpkins of my youth are being joined by different shaped and different colored pumpkins. Some stores call these fantasy pumpkins: the fancy, striped or mottled pumpkins in anything but orange. Some people get all excited with the first sightings of pumpkin spice this and pumpkin spice that. For me, the fall season starts with the arrival of the fantasy pumpkins. In mid-September I spotted my first batch of fantasy pumpkins. I chose a beauty. It was mottled all over in green and orange. I picked it up and plunked it into my cart. It was $7.99, but it was worth it. It was gorgeous.
I like to photograph them and then put them out for Halloween. I purposely kept the pumpkin in the garage. I figured the cooler temperatures out there would preserve it till Halloween. Yesterday, I opened the garage door. I was nearly knocked over with the stench of rotting pumpkin. I couldn’t believe it. My stunning pumpkin left a puddle of thin ecru-orange liquid on the garage floor. The stench filled my nostrils. It smelled like something died in there. This was not my idea of a fantasy. Not even close.
I carefully picked up the pumpkin and tossed it into the garbage can.
Fantasy, indeed.
I’m Rosie Klepper and that’s my perspective
