This is the photostream my husband took on Halloween night. 62 pumpkins (give or take the few the squirrels got into or collapsed from rot in the few 75+ degree days we had after carving), most of them carved by dear friends, who were persuaded (in fine Tom Sawyer fashion) that painting the fence. . . err. . . carving our pumpkins was going to be grand fun.
This is the result.
A haunted pumpkin patch, complete with fog and black lights, candles and glowsticks.
It made my theatrical heart go pitter patter with joy. Especially when I overheard trick or treaters' families debate which year at our house was their favorite.
It's an insane amount of work (even with the forced labor. . . ) to do this for one night. But it is a labor of love and silliness, one that everyone in the family helps with. I honestly can't imagine having Halloween without a display.
*That* would be scary, indeed.
And I'm still not entirely sure what my younger son was supposed to be. I only know it involved one very long evening with hair bleach and then electric blue, which resulted in blue hands (mine), blue shower, blue ears (his), and blue towels. Oh, and blue hair.
One more aside: Notice the shrine to Doctor Who: pumpkins carved as a TARDIS, a spider, a dalek, and a weeping angel. Don't blink. Don't even blink.
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