a simple matter of honor

It's been warm and rainy since halloween. One week later and the pumpkin by the door is all patchy, red and black mold inside, its smile collapsing in on itself. Didn't last long this year. I'm not sure why it occurred to me that blowing it up would be a good idea. Maybe because I've never done that. And maybe because the trajectory straight to the compost somehow felt less than honorable―not to mention anti-climactic. It seemed like it deserved more, after its short and orange glowing beauty of a life―like maybe going out with a bang... it was a simple matter of honor. And being a visual person, the idea had already taken on a life of its own. To be sure it actually coincided with my imagination, I had to do it. One never knows what will emerge from that space where imagination meets reality. Sometimes a whole new space emerges, which I guess you'd call art. And sometimes it doesn't. Either way, you learn something.

Afterwards the neighbor, seeing me in the backyard, opened their window and said "did you feel that??" Uh oh... "uhhh, yeah. I was just experimenting with the pumpkin..."
I guess that explosion sucked in a lot of oxygen and displaced it back out again enough to rattle a house...