Pumpkin Time

Greetings Lobolians.

It is nearing Halloween. Don't know why I would mention that, except that there is a pumpkin now sitting on my desk, that I was looking at just now. Rather interesting thought, wouldn't you say? Or maybe not, making I make no sense, sitting here talking about pumpkins. Anyone can talk about pumpkins. Who doesn't know about pumpkins?

But why not talk about pumpkins? They are a fascinating plant, one we grow over 10% if each year for no other purpose than to cut funny/scary/sarcastic faces into them, plop them onto our porches, and light candles in them. Rather ridiculous. No other species has ever thought of growing food for the sake of playing with it. Not only that, but mothers around the world ENCOURAGE the practice. Wonder how many see it that way?, . . . .

Just me, Lobolius of the Rant, probably. Yawn. Not a real yawn, just one of those yeah the patheticness of this rant, talking about pumpkins yawn. Sorry folks, tonight your precious Wolf has fallen into the abyss of soft news. I will have harder, more analytical stuff one of these days. But honestly, I don't have any grittiness in the world grating at me. Just quiet thoughts of pumpkins sitting on porches across America, facing the streets for ages past and ages to come, eternally sculpted, constantly rotting and being replaced, year after year. How often do you think about such things? Never?

You should. If there's one message I seek to send out, it's look. Look. Just look, but don't bother memorizing or touching, or seeking, or feeling, or knowing all the time. Look at a pumpkin, look at a leaf falling from a tree, or a bunch of leaves swirling in a tornado. Is that difficult? Or is it too easy to do?

Roman Wolf