Pumpkin Festival

A few years ago someone, who shall remain nameless (since I don't know who it was), came up with the idea to "borrow" from Keene, NH and start a pumpkin festival.

What exactly, you may ask, is a pumkin festival? Around here it might be the night when the locals go feral and start knawing on the pumpkin heads of innocent scarcrows. But why limit them to one night? (I do not qualify as a local yet. I haven't been here long enough and I am still shunned by the good christians who live here. Oh my God! Who said that? It wasn't me. I must have been possessed by some vampirical pumpkin).

Okay, a little digression, but I'm back. And no. I'm not bitter.

Ah, the pumpkin festival. Celebrating that most pagan of holidays, Samhain. Townsfolk bring their carved pumpkins to the village green during the day. They are set up for display on tables, chairs and haybales. Then, around dusk, the jack-o-lanterns are lit. The road is closed. The band is set up and ready to play. Popcorn is popped and cider mulled. A cresent moon glows in the deepening sky. And the locals arrive, many with small people, some of whom are spookily attired.  And some of whom are the requisite princess.

There is a spooky haunted graveyard covered thickly in "fog" and making it very difficult to breathe. The spooks in the graveyard are mostly third graders standing on the side and then jumping in front of trespassers as they wander along the path. They are not particularly scary but they are having too much fun to care.

As night descends the true artistry of the illuminated carved pumpkins reveals itself. Some are amazing. Some are traditional. But the best ones are those that were carved by the kids. Without help from an adult.

At the peak of this two hour event, the green is mobbed. It's too dark to really see who people are. There is a steady flow of bodies moving past the display. The band is in Pink Floyd mode, playing "Dark Side Of The Moon", and the only screams coming from the haunted graveyard are those of the self-appointed scarers.

About a half hour before the event ends, the cider, hot chocolate and popcorn starts to run out. The crowd thins and one-by-one the jack-o-lanterns start to disappear as they go home with their owners.

Our third grader has spent the evening with his cronies trying to scare people. He seems unconcerned that he didn't really have a good look at the pumpkins. And, because we stayed until the bitter end, he's ready to go without complaint. It's cold and he's tired.

Promptly at eight, the band thanks everyone for coming and launches into their final offering. A rock/heavy metal version of Louis Armstrong's "Wonderful World".


A fitting ending.