A Haunting Of Gourds
Print measures 8”x8” (Has Border)
Giclee print on bright white 255 gsm Epson Somerset Velvet. This paper is 100% cotton and certified archival. This paper has some texture to it.
Acid and Lignin-free (Lignins acidify paper as they degrade over time).
———————————————
We are all organic. People and birds, plants and animals.
We are planted, we grow and decay, we help other things grow in turn.
Time marches on.
Yet all of us are more than that, existing beyond the process of decay and growth, and after our bodies begin their disintegration what is left moves to join the throng, a tangle of loudsome and riotous ghosts that few of the living perceive. At least the humans don’t.
Cats seem more attuned, and it’s possible that the anxious personalities of birds are 92.5% the result of living their lives blessed (or cursed) with a dim half-awareness of all who came before…
The sheer volume of spirits that surround us, whether big or little, long or short-lived, makes our world a very haunted place.
While the cities have a reputation for haunting, they have nothing on the orchards and fields.
Each tomato. Every speckled apple that fell to the earth and molded three feet from its birthplace.
But most haunted of all are the pumpkin patches…
Some pumpkins end their lives as treasured totems on porches far away from home, lit from within by carvers who display them with pride.
Some, like the apples, never make it farther than the vine. They see the sun rise and set, and they notice that the days grow shorter the older that they get. Sometimes they are passed over by small children, other times they converse with the crows. They don’t end their lives in a blaze of glory, covered in wax, cut from stem to stern, but nevertheless, life has a distinct and comforting rhythm.
Though they do sometimes envy those who are given a face. The ones that are carved, lit, wreathed in corn, and set up on hay bales so that the patch’s visitors might marvel at them.
Needless to say, it’s an honor few humans can truly understand, and as a result the spirits of *those* pumpkins do tend to put on airs a bit.
Print measures 8”x8” (Has Border)
Giclee print on bright white 255 gsm Epson Somerset Velvet. This paper is 100% cotton and certified archival. This paper has some texture to it.
Acid and Lignin-free (Lignins acidify paper as they degrade over time).
———————————————
We are all organic. People and birds, plants and animals.
We are planted, we grow and decay, we help other things grow in turn.
Time marches on.
Yet all of us are more than that, existing beyond the process of decay and growth, and after our bodies begin their disintegration what is left moves to join the throng, a tangle of loudsome and riotous ghosts that few of the living perceive. At least the humans don’t.
Cats seem more attuned, and it’s possible that the anxious personalities of birds are 92.5% the result of living their lives blessed (or cursed) with a dim half-awareness of all who came before…
The sheer volume of spirits that surround us, whether big or little, long or short-lived, makes our world a very haunted place.
While the cities have a reputation for haunting, they have nothing on the orchards and fields.
Each tomato. Every speckled apple that fell to the earth and molded three feet from its birthplace.
But most haunted of all are the pumpkin patches…
Some pumpkins end their lives as treasured totems on porches far away from home, lit from within by carvers who display them with pride.
Some, like the apples, never make it farther than the vine. They see the sun rise and set, and they notice that the days grow shorter the older that they get. Sometimes they are passed over by small children, other times they converse with the crows. They don’t end their lives in a blaze of glory, covered in wax, cut from stem to stern, but nevertheless, life has a distinct and comforting rhythm.
Though they do sometimes envy those who are given a face. The ones that are carved, lit, wreathed in corn, and set up on hay bales so that the patch’s visitors might marvel at them.
Needless to say, it’s an honor few humans can truly understand, and as a result the spirits of *those* pumpkins do tend to put on airs a bit.
Print measures 8”x8” (Has Border)
Giclee print on bright white 255 gsm Epson Somerset Velvet. This paper is 100% cotton and certified archival. This paper has some texture to it.
Acid and Lignin-free (Lignins acidify paper as they degrade over time).
———————————————
We are all organic. People and birds, plants and animals.
We are planted, we grow and decay, we help other things grow in turn.
Time marches on.
Yet all of us are more than that, existing beyond the process of decay and growth, and after our bodies begin their disintegration what is left moves to join the throng, a tangle of loudsome and riotous ghosts that few of the living perceive. At least the humans don’t.
Cats seem more attuned, and it’s possible that the anxious personalities of birds are 92.5% the result of living their lives blessed (or cursed) with a dim half-awareness of all who came before…
The sheer volume of spirits that surround us, whether big or little, long or short-lived, makes our world a very haunted place.
While the cities have a reputation for haunting, they have nothing on the orchards and fields.
Each tomato. Every speckled apple that fell to the earth and molded three feet from its birthplace.
But most haunted of all are the pumpkin patches…
Some pumpkins end their lives as treasured totems on porches far away from home, lit from within by carvers who display them with pride.
Some, like the apples, never make it farther than the vine. They see the sun rise and set, and they notice that the days grow shorter the older that they get. Sometimes they are passed over by small children, other times they converse with the crows. They don’t end their lives in a blaze of glory, covered in wax, cut from stem to stern, but nevertheless, life has a distinct and comforting rhythm.
Though they do sometimes envy those who are given a face. The ones that are carved, lit, wreathed in corn, and set up on hay bales so that the patch’s visitors might marvel at them.
Needless to say, it’s an honor few humans can truly understand, and as a result the spirits of *those* pumpkins do tend to put on airs a bit.