October has flown quickly by, and now, on the cusp of Halloween night, sweet memories scatter like autumn leaves across my mind. Memories of Halloweens from my early childhood remind me of a time when my sisters and I walked unescorted around the neighborhood like friendly ghosts, collecting treats in brown paper grocery bags to feast on over the following weeks.
Wherever I’ve landed since then, there have always been orange pumpkins to carve and costumes to be assembled. Perhaps my favorite Halloween memories come from the years Kit and I spent in the Midwest where pumpkin fields were abundant down by the Missouri River that was just minutes from our home in the southern Boone County.
Each October, I drove my red Chevy pickup truck down to the Hartsburg bottoms and filled it with pumpkins of every size, shape, and color I could find at the Hackman Farm. It was impossible to just choose one. The event was a source of warmth and joy, each pumpkin alive with the promise of many more harvest moons to come.
My favorite pumpkins have never been the classic orange carving pumpkins, but rather the tan cow pie pumpkins that make the most wonderful pies on the planet. They become November’s tasty purees for pies and pumpkin bread. And baked with drizzled olive oil, they become delicious sides for any entrée cooked up when November temperatures fall and wool sweaters come out of summer storage.
As winds begin to respond to fluctuating late October temperatures, brilliant autumn foliage delights us with a glorious palate of red, yellow, and orange colors. Great piles of leaves are raked up and left to compost over the coming winter season until they are tossed on spring gardens and the cycle of life begins again. It is these falling leaves that our daughter Heidi captured in a lovely watercolor many autumn moons ago. It is a memory of a chapter in our lives together that I continue to treasure all these decades later.
When Kit and I left the pumpkin patches along the Missouri River and headed west five years ago, we celebrated our first Halloween outside at a table set up in the driveway. As it grew dark, we waited for Trick or Treaters while staying warm under a wool blanket. Kit was bundled up in an orange-colored puffy vest and knitted cap, and I wore a long sweater coat that once kept me warm in Istanbul. I also wore a Venetian mask that I’ve toted from move to move over the years knowing I’d someday find an occasion to wear it. And of course, our treats were Kit Kat candy bars.
This Halloween, I share these memories with you dear Readers, along with this vintage card to remind you:
When wise old owls
cry out Whoo! Whoo!
Some One is sure
to think of you.