Smash + rot + snow =

Logan and Maple, Denver

Winter overtook autumn approximately two months ago, but winter is unable to fully undo everything that autumn creates. One such thing is the pumpkin. No matter how much the squirrels gnaw on the pumpkin (and believe me, they gnaw), no matter how many bored youths smash the pumpkin against the sidewalk, no matter how many drunks leaving the bars at 1:55am swerve to hit the pumpkin, the pumpkin lives on. This pumpkin has certainly survived a dozen or so snowstorms; I just happened to walk by on a day when all was melted. The image probably doesn't make your stomach turn. It doesn't mine. But the pumpkin is displaying some very significant signs of pure rot. Its pale orange guts are oozing out the top, while the sunken skin is bleached white from the sun and snow salt. Parts of it are black from rot, and the rot is spreading. Much like the puke spot on the wall at Vermont and Sunset, I'd like to watch the long life of this pumpkin's death, until it melts fully into the ground or someone scoops up its liquefying corpse and takes it to the dumpster.