Yesterday I lifted the lid off our Jack-O’-Lantern, reached inside his belly and pulled out the tea light. It was something of a solemn moment. We’ve been struggling to truly say goodbye to October and Halloween, and I’ve been burning the pumpkin every day since Sebastian calved him. There’s something so special about the smell that comes from a lit pumpkin. It reminds me of my childhood in our tiny miners cottage. When we would light the pumpkin, the whole cottage would hum with its comforting scent.
But yesterday, it dawned on me that instead of throwing him away, we could do something special with his body instead. I decided to take him out into the forest and leave him there for the creatures – and the little people – to enjoy. But first I needed to carve away the sinister grin that had been keeping us company through the long nights. I ensured all the burnt parts were cut away, and bagged up only the unblemished parts of the skin and flesh to take out with me.
It hadn’t snowed the night before, and the clear skies had gifted us with a covering of ice and the very first of winter’s icicles. Having already spent time in Sweden during winter I knew where they would be hanging, and scrambled up one steep embankment after another to admire nature’s delicate ornaments.