When I was growing up in Arizona, our pumpkins were smashed every year. Everybody’s pumpkins were smashed. I thought it was part of the social contract. If you left your pumpkin accessible to the public, that would be the end of it. It was also a useful tool for disposing of them. November 1, no need to think about your pumpkin again.
Imagine my surprise upon moving to Boston, and waking up on All Saints Day to find my pumpkin perfectly in tact. Not once has my pumpkin been smashed. It is very mysterious to me. I’m sure it is fun to destroy them, but the Boston kids hold off.
The end result of this is that I generally forget about the pumpkin until it’s rotting on the porch and Jen yells at me to get rid of it already.
Here is this years pumpkin. Yes, I’m very proud of the spider. Next year I’m going to attempt a portrait of Britney Spears.
And gratuitously, here is the cutest pirate to ever sail the seven seas.
Our pumpkins also got smashed yearly in my hometown. Our front trees also got toilet papered good and cars parked on the street got egged or silly-stringed. We lived in one of the nicest suburbs but of course the kids were truly rotten. And so it cracks me up that Boston is so well-mannered on Halloween. Did they not get the memo out here?
For real, it’s not really Halloween without a little bit of destruction.
First of all, EXCELLENT pumpkin! truly awesome! Way better than my crappy smiley face which costs me half of the skin on my palm (ouch).
And where I live, smashing someone’s pumpkin is like the most horrid thing you could do. People will go after the perps with steak knives (at least I would- no shame here).
Gosh Cee, I always thought the pumpkin smashers were doing me a favor. Otherwise you have to drag the thing to the trash.
Nice!
Funny story: I didn’t realise that the pumpkins they sell for carving are *only* for pumpkin-carving, and really shouldn’t be eaten. Tried to make a stuffed pumpkin with one of those… not so much. They’re bland and watery and awful.
Pumpkin smashing was the norm in Indiana where I grew up, but just 2 hours away in central IL I’ve never had a smashed pumpkin.