Surprised that the pumpkin is slumping (12/20/06)

The pumpkin was slumping.

Or at least that's what it looked like.

It was a sunny afternoon last week, and I was coming up the walk to the front door when the pumpkin caught my eye.

It shouldn't have been there, of course.

After all, I was going to be putting up Christmas lights the next day. The pumpkin, along with an autumnal wreath on the door, was a relic of holidays past. Thanksgiving and Halloween were distant objects in the rearview mirror.

But, just the same, should the pumpkin be slumping?

Cautiously, before going inside, I nudged it with the toe of my shoe.

Instead of a firm, thumping pumpkin shell, it responded like a Nerf pumpkin. If I'd pushed much harder, my foot would have been inside the rotten thing. The pumpkin was so soft that I halfway expected it too deflate into a pancake shape at any moment.

In the house I told my wife the big news. "The pumpkin's slumping," I said.

Almost in unison, we said the same thing: "It's time to get the snow shovel."

There really was no other way to move the thing. You couldn't pull up on the vine at the top. It was sure to come off in your hand. And there was no way you would have wanted the grab it below.

So, the snow shovel was inevitable. Moving smelly things is one of any snow shovel's ancillary uses. It's the equivalent of knocking down bats with a tennis racket; not what the tool was designed for but just the right thing in a pinch.

Carefully edging it under the pumpkin, I lifted the thing off the front porch and gingerly carried it back to the compost heap. It had a head start when it came to being compost anyway.

And as to the snow shovel, I left it out. Just as it's time to trade pumpkins for Christmas lights, it's time to move the snow shovel from the garage to the back door.

Besides, this way it can air out a bit and get rid of that nasty pumpkin smell.[[In-content Ad]]