There is a small town about an hour's drive away that, for many years now, has devoted the month of October to its "Pumpkin People". Townspeople were encouraged to create pumpkin-headed scarecrows in their front yards and more elaborate displays were created in public spaces. In the beginning, it was an impressive sight to behold. Each year was organized around a theme. From Lord of the Rings. To an all-pumpkin orchestra. People drove from miles around to see the pumpkin people. But after several years, it seemed that the dreaded "Pumpkin People Fatigue" had begun to set in. Fewer townspeople participated. The numbers of pumpkin people dwindled. And the sight of them was less impressive with each passing year. Yes, it appeared that the sun was setting on the era of the Pumpkin People.
But then, something astonishing happened.
As the once-proud Pumpkin People cried out in their collective agony, their voice was heard. And there was a response. A rallying cry of support. And that rallying cry clearly came from my neighbours. Because suddenly, pumpkin people fever has taken hold on the streets that surround me. Suddenly, pumpkin people are springing up where none had existed before. Suddenly, my neighbours have taken up the pumpkin people torch and are holding it high.
There are pumpkin witches.
But then, something astonishing happened.
As the once-proud Pumpkin People cried out in their collective agony, their voice was heard. And there was a response. A rallying cry of support. And that rallying cry clearly came from my neighbours. Because suddenly, pumpkin people fever has taken hold on the streets that surround me. Suddenly, pumpkin people are springing up where none had existed before. Suddenly, my neighbours have taken up the pumpkin people torch and are holding it high.
There are pumpkin witches.
And pumpkin teenagers.
Pumpkin farmers.
And pumpkin vampires.
And even pumpkin smurfs.
Far from being at death's door, it seems the pumpkin people are alive and well. And living in my neighbourhood.