This pumpkin is becoming a pie. But it was just too nice a gourd to be left without a face. Then I cut him in half, scooped out the strings, and sliced off his face.
Honey, eggs, clove, and cinnamon. Into the pie crust.
The wind is blowing. It's come from all directions, blowing leaves back and forth around the yard, in gamboling waves, and leaving unlikely things in the streets.