Every year, the Mangelsdorf’s conjoin the Saturday before Halloween and ramble off in Cousin Aaron’s Halloween mini-van sleigh across the countryside garnished with the beautiful crimson, orange, and golden leaves of Fall for a visit to a local farm called Gramma’s place.
The truth is, the drive only takes a total of five minutes as my neighborhood soon bleeds into farm country, but the ride is very magical with the as the van is filled with laughter and chatter as the amazing scenery flooding our eyes through every window—and it’s still plenty of time to for Aaron and me to listen to the first 30 seconds of ten or so tracks of new music we’ve been dying to introduce and ingratiate upon each other’s ears.
Once we arrive at the farm, Aaron orders a juicy, fat bratwurst hot off the grill and the rest of us fan out in search for the perfect pumpkins we intend to knife and disembowel later. In the distance there’s a giant compressed air cannon firing the stemmed orange specimens at an old school bus off in the field. The sun-beaten, rust-speckled vehicle looks as if years ago it solemnly wandered away from an entire herd of wild school buses, knowing it was time to die, driving miles and miles across unfettered farm country and ultimately lying down in this field with the moist earth against its undercarriage and the dry sun pulling its soul to the sky like the dew on a tin roof slowly but surely evaporating into the Fall air. The grumble of a diesel engine quickly interrupts the solace of my ponderance as the farm tractor pulls close with a hay-ride wagon in tow. We pass on climbing aboard because this year is all about the pumpkins.
My daughter Tessa does really well pushing our wheel barrow as we stroll among the piles of pre-picked pumpkins. Once we put our third one in, it’s a bit much for her to balance, so my son Evan takes the reigns for the remainder of our visit. The deliberation is short and fine picks are decided upon quickly. These beautiful, brilliant-orange pumpkins are completely unsuspecting as they have no idea of the macabre torture and mutilation they will soon endure.
Arriving home, we unload the sleigh of gathered goods, get all the mud and grime off, and begin disembowelment. We carefully save the pumpkin guts for the ladies to sort out the seeds to salt and bake later this evening.
The evening continues smoothly along as Aaron’s fiancee, Miss Jenny, rolls out fresh homemade dough and bakes gourmet pizzas for us. We get to choose or own toppings, of course, from fresh sliced pepperoni, garden fresh tomatoes, various varieties of cheeses, grilled sweet onions, minced garlic, and more. They turn out amazingly and we savor each bite as the pizzas are voraciously consumed.
Next, we carve our chosen specimens with great care and precision at our dining table. Freshly baked pumpkin seeds crunch between our teeth. The air is filled with music, giggles, and gregarious conversation as our carving knives submit to our intent on the orange surfaces placed before us.

Finally, our bidding of subtractive creativity is carried out and we bring our brand-new jack-o-lanterns out to the front porch for their first lighting. We stand together in the cool dark air and compliment each other’s work while gazing into the glowing heads on the front steps. It’s mesmerizing and there’s a feeling of satisfaction among us for a day well spent. Soon we say goodbye and promise to do this once again this time next year.
Happy Halloween!