But through the years, pumpkins have become meditative acts of patience, discipline, and peace to me. A gift to be able to waste so much time in silence. In cooler weather, no less. Pumpkins don't require their carvers to justify the time they spend with them alone. Like any true discipline, the internal, impatient objections of the artist grow quieter with practice. They grow silent and, at some point, forget the background sense of guilt or self-indulgence altogether. The act becomes a craft to savor. A privilege to enjoy.
Today was not as silent, but just as special. Annie's first pumpkin. We left nothing out, but made sure to keep it short. Enjoying the process, learning the steps. But just learning the steps. A whole lot of fun. And whether it's with pumpkins or poppies or prairies, I hope she remembers on other days the dance of the "just because."
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