A Pumpkin Worries About Winter

A sharp chill cut through the trees, then passed through openings in the pasture’s fence before bathing a colony of pumpkins with winter’s harsh reminder. Many of the orange gourds huddled together, clinging together for warmth. They chanted for the Spirit of Autumn to stave off the frigid specter’s approach for a few more weeks, but they’d also been preemptively wishing for that since the end of Summer. For others, with how much colder the evergreens had said this Autumn would become, they hoped just to survive the night. 

Curbita, a normally cheerful ambercup squash, had enough of these increasingly frequent gales, especially when they threatened to send her little pumpkin friends flying over into the next acre. She planted her feet in the ground, opened up her long poncho, acting like a tent, and let her smaller pale pumpkin friends hunker down around her body. The so-called “Pride of the Pumpkin Patch” had saved her friends again even though it looked to be a long, sleepless night ahead of them. 

To help pass the time, Curbita and her friends did as they usually did: sing. She belted out a soulful melody to combat the howling winds. The pumpkins underneath her poncho joined in as her bass backup singers. Even as the cold air battered her throat, she tried to comfort her companions until the sun finally rose. 

A collective sigh was shared among the pasture as the golden rays swathed the pumpkins like a warm blanket. Sweet photosynthesis. Now, many of Curbita’s cousins would chase the sun across the sky as they roamed the grasslands. She would usually join them, but first, she needed some water. Then she caught her reflection in the water; some of her curlier green vines were loosening while some had darkened to a sickly shade of brown. A few darker spots were also showing across her pumpkin head. Worrisome.

Lost in her thoughts, as she was occasionally, Curbita wandered off into the woods. Today was the center point between the Autumn Equinox and the Winter Solstice: Halloween. Typically, today would be ripe for merriment and sweet, spooky songs, but all Curbita could think about was how many days were left before it started snowing. She let out half-hearted chirped notes that would tangle themselves within the branches of the evergreens. She was so small and insignificant compared to them that her noises barely penetrated their lengthy, seemingly year-long conversations. 

Among the giants that crowded her, those lucky enough to survive the winter, existed one that would give Curbita the time of day—the Great Magnolia. Only Curbita called her “Great,” but she felt that the white-flowering tree deserved the moniker. Magnolia would always greet her with a tender smile, but something was off today — she appeared concerned.

“No one to share Halloween with, my dear?” 

Curbita opened her long poncho, revealing the white pumpkins clinging to her waist for warmth. In turn, the ambercup squash pointed to each of them, “This is Jumbo, Hefty, and Elephantine.” The ironically named pale pumpkins politely waved at the appropriately nicknamed Great Magnolia. The tree couldn’t help holding back a laugh. 

“Ah, you made friends like I said you would. I’m so proud.”

“Thank you, Magnolia…”

“But why aren’t you out celebrating Halloween?”

Curbita didn’t speak, choosing to respond with a shrug.

“Winter blues?”

Curbita nodded. Moments later, a branch lowered, and its leaves gently brushed against the curly vines atop the pumpkin’s head. “Oh, my sweet little gourd, I told you before. It’s natural to feel that way. It affects all of us.”

Curbita slowly glanced at all the evergreens and deciduous trees around them. Would they feel the same as her? She just shook her head. A bundle of Spanish moss dropped from one of Magnolia’s taller branches, forming a little swing. Curbita reflexively hopped on, but couldn’t find the energy to try and beat her longest jump.

“Please, tell me what you’re thinking?”

Curbita rested her head against one of the moss bundles while she restlessly kicked her tiny feet. “How… how come I’ll die in the winter, but you won’t?”

Magnolia sighed, “Pumpkin, we’ve talked about this. We were just made differently.”

“B-but why…? Why do I only have one year, and you have like a bazillion.” 

“A bazillion, your imagination is very generous to me…” Magnolia gazed down to see Curbita’s saddened expression, tears dripping from her hollow sockets. More wreaths of Spanish moss descended and coiled around Curbita, giving her a soothing embrace.

“It’s not fair,” she mumbled.

“I know it’s not fair… I wish I could give you some of my years.” 

“Will you remember me when I’m gone?”

“Of course, I will; you’re my favorite little gourd.” Magnolia moved some of her branches to let some extra sun shine onto Curbita and her new friends. “I’ll pass on too, one of these winters.”

“You will?”

“We all do — in the end, we all do.” This time, Magnolia lowered a branch again so Curbita could coil her vine arm around it. “In the end, you just make peace with it.”

Magnolia could hear the soft whimpers from the pumpkin. “But isn’t it scary… when it’s over?”

“I don’t see why it would be?” Magnolia replied in a mothering tone. 

Curbita’s grip tightened on Magnolia’s branch. “I think it is. They say it’s a mean dark place where the bees and butterflies are gone, and the leaf-eaters chase you all day and night.” 

Magnolia couldn’t help but chuckle, “And who told you that?”

“My cousins…”

“The little loud ones that you said used to bully you?”

“Yeah…”

"Don't let them scare you. It won't be bad, I promise."

"But do you know…?"

Curbita's swinging stopped as the silence lingered. Magnolia tightened her mossy extensions a bit more around the somber pumpkin. "No... I don't and that's okay."

Magnolia could hear Curbita’s sigh that she wasn’t satisfied with the answer. The tree could only give her gentle affections and simple reassurances to at least stop her weeping. Magnolia hesitated to speak up for a while about an idea she was mulling over. With an uncertain sigh, she continued, “There’s a valley at the end of the winding river where a rock formation reaches into the sky to pluck out the sun — when the light passes between its fingers, you will find a place called the Autumn Jamboree.”

“Jamboree? Is that like a party?” 

“Not just any party, Curbita, but the biggest and most special one. It arrives on Halloween and departs just as soon as the first snowflake falls. There’s singing, dancing, and shows of all sorts.”

Curbita perked up, “Have you seen it?”

“No, my dear, I’ve only heard tales of it. But some say that the Jamboree travels the many worlds, chasing Autumn for all eternity. I hear they’re always looking for new performers. ”

For all eternity. That meant no winter. Curbita couldn’t help stop her tiny feet from kicking back and forth. “Can I join?! I can sing! I can dance!” 

Before Magnolia could respond, Curbita belted out a confident tune that drew some attention from the nearby evergreens. Once she realized she had their attention, she seemed to shrink. “Uh-uh-uh… I’m gonna go now, bye-bye Magnolia! I promise to come back and tell you how it went!” Curbita scurried off, propelled by equal parts hope and embarrassment. 

"Wait, Curbita—!" Despite Curbita being so much smaller than Magnolia, the little pumpkin had quickly disappeared over the hills. "—ohhh, I just don't want you to be heartbroken if they don't accept you." 

Curbita hurried down the rolling hills and through the fleets of migrating bushes before reaching the river. She hopped across the stones peeking just above the water’s surface, pretending they were music notes on a stanza, singing individual notes. Jumbo, Hefty, and Elephantine joined in with deep voices as they played the river’s melody. 

The valley came into full view as the river transformed into a series of cascading cataracts. At the end where the stony hills merged into a rock formation, reaching into the sky as Magnolia said, the sun passed within its pinching gesture. The bright jewel bathed the area in a golden sheen before a large bud sprouted from the ground. The bud boasted all the colors of Autumn. It hummed, gently shaking the ground around the valley. Curbita felt the urge to hum back, whether it heard her or not. Each sang a different song as the bud opened and blossomed into a series of breathtaking flowers. 

Crubita couldn’t hold her excitement any further as she carefully, but quickly, descended the side of the waterfalls. By the time she arrived, a raucous crowd had already formed. She struggled to navigate the abundance of excited fruits and vegetables but eventually found a spot where she could see the upcoming performance on one of the blossom platforms.

An inky cap mushroom sauntered across the stage. The performer’s dress was ruffled, almost resembling a bird with rough plumage. Like Magnolia, she had an air of refinement and elegance — most apparent as she danced ballet. Quick spins and pirouettes led to dainty, airy steps like a leaf fluttering in the breeze. Then came the jumps and leaps, first grand, before she threw her whole body into the performance. All the while, the black ink oozing from the hem of her dress splattered across the canvas behind her. Once her routine finished, she’d painted an impression of the audience, which got roaring applause. 

Curbita stumbled through the crowd to another blossom, where she saw the next performer walking on stage. Thin and mysterious, this flower seemed somber, or at least, that was the feeling reflected by her butterfly mask. At the center of the platform, with a flourish of her hands, her dress flared out into a flurry of thin red petals. The spider lily then sang in a language foreign to Curbita but nonetheless wonderful. It was melancholic, like a lilting autumn breeze that was just a little too cold, but as it continued, the song almost seemed to wrap around her — almost reassuring her, like Magnolia always did. Though not everyone in the audience felt her exact interpretations, the spider lily’s song certainly strongly affected people.

With how excited she was, Curbita couldn’t stay in one spot for long. She pushed through to the next blossom, where a rotund, joy pomegranate man stood with a massive wooden contraption surrounding him. With a mighty inhale, he then blew into the woodwind contraption. It sounded like a whole orchestra playing as the various wooden and grass implements swayed and moved. For Curbita, it conjured up memories of when she was but a flowering bud, listening to the winds and voices of early spring. Soothing, warm, refreshing. 

The next blossom caught her attention as there was more of a commotion than a performance. A sign inviting public members to audition sat beside a stairway leading inside the rest of the giant unopened bulb. Two stalks of spring onions kept the flow of people in check as only one or two were brought in at a time. Curbita agonizingly waited for her turn; her excitement was palpable, and her head almost somersaulted off her body. Jumbo, Hefty, and Elephantine shared her excitement and slight performance jitters. Soon, she was let inside. 

She followed the stairs up to a small platform surrounded by flowers, vegetables, berries, and fruits; all of whom, Curbita could immediately feel them scrutinizing her silently—a knot formed in the pit of her stomach. Singing in the pasture with her cousins or to Magnolia was easy. She could do it in her sleep. But here, in front of all these strangers, Curbita felt light-headed.

“I said you can start,” a voice from the judging panel stated after clearing their throat. 

Concerned, the small white pumpkins gave her the first note. No song left her mouth. Another note was given, but she just froze. Finally, a few rough notes tumbled off her tongue but were barely audible. The attention, her latent anxiety, and her ever-present fear constricted her very soul as the judges exchanged concerned looks and whispers. Before one of the judges could politely ask her to leave the stage, Curbita broke out into a sob before scurrying off the platform — she stumbled over her poncho partway through her dramatic exit. 

She rushed through the crowd, trying not to make eye contact with anyone. She was sure they would start mocking her, too. Curbita ran as far from the Jamboree as possible. Too much attention, fear, and anxiety were now firmly replaced by embarrassment, frustration, and disappointment to the point where she felt she was going to be sick. She plopped down on a ridge overlooking the forest.

Her pity party didn’t last long as something pushed through the bushes. “Alyssum? Darling, are you here? Oh—?” 

Curbita quickly wiped her face so it didn’t seem like she was bawling. It didn’t help. That and there was a small pile of orange pulp with seeds beside her. The tall gangly plant with a frilly flower collar cautiously approached her.

“Do you need assistance?”

“No—” she sniffled loudly, “I’m okay.”

“You don’t sound it. Won’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

“I looked… silly in front of the other flowers.”

“Well, that’s hardly something to feel terrible over.” 

“It was in front of the judging people.” 

“Ah—Oh, I see…” The dapper flower folded one leg over the other. “Did they not like your audition?”

“I left before they said anything. I couldn’t sing.”

“Too scared?”

“Yeah…” She slammed her hands on the ground. Her hushed tone intensified while also being mildly cushioned by her sobs slowly returning. “I hate it. I hate feeling scared.”

“Are you afraid of winter too?”

Curbita looked up in surprise. “Y-yeah, how did you know?”

“Usually, everyone who auditions for the Jamboree also fears winter. Myself included. Don’t worry, little miss Pumpkin, I’ve been in your place before.”

“You have?”

“Yes, I was a timid little Crocus. Scared of my own shadow on most days, and winter, ooph, don’t even get me started. I had my voice to carry me through the colder nights, but I was still so scared of the inevitable. Then I found the Autumn Jamboree. I sang my little heart out and took my spot in the show. I’ve been with the performance for years now. Maybe about four at this point. It’s hard to track time when all you see now is Autumn.”

“Four years… wow, a few more, and you’ll be as old as Magnolia.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, as you seem fond of this Magnolia.”

“Are you still scared?”

Crocus looked at the setting sun and said, “Some days, I am at peace with it. Some days, the fear still finds me. But it’s better now, much better. My friend, Alyssum, told me she finally made peace with it. I hoped to find her before she left, but maybe it's for the best. It's best not to linger once one’s mind is made up.”

“Aren’t you upset that she’s gone?”

“I’ll be sad but happy, too, knowing she’s content with her life now.”

Curbita quietly turned to the setting sun. 

“Still worried, little—”

“Curbita.”

Crocus nodded. “Still worried, miss Curbita?”

She silently nodded back.

“Would you like to sing for me? I feel you deserve a second chance. I’ll give you some time to settle the butterflies in your tummy.”

Curbita scrambled to her feet. She arranged Jumbo, Hefty, and Elephantine in specific positions before taking “center stage,” but like before, she froze. The small pale pumpkins fed her a few notes; unfortunately, she couldn’t find her voice. Crocus bent down beside her and gently took Curbita’s hands.

“Close your eyes and think of someplace safe. Now, match my notes. Let’s sing together.”

He sang. 

She was silent. 

He sang. 

She warbled. 

He sang. 

She sang. 

Their melodious duet atop the ridge had the grass swaying back and forth. Rediscovering her confidence, Curbita sang louder and stronger with each new measure. Crocus weaned off his part, letting the pumpkin sing her troubles away. Eventually, she sang and danced with the sun setting beyond the horizon. The solo crescendoed with a long, sustained note. The purple and orange hues of the sky, along with the first glimmers of starlight, formed an almost ethereal mandala behind her. Curbita ended her impromptu performance with a bow.

Crocus applauded his new acquaintance, “Bravo, you’re quite the performer.”

Crubita shrunk a little. She wasn’t used to praise from people who weren’t her cousins or Magnolia.

“I can put in a good word with the rest of the crew to have you tag along with us.”

“You mean it?!”

“Of course. I could never deny talent like that. But I want you to hear a little saying that we have at the Jamboree: anyone’s invited to stay, and if you get in, we’re happy to have you, but we’re also happy to see you go. Everyone leaves the Jamboree in the end — to embrace the end. And that’s okay. You may not feel that sentiment now, but with time, you and I will be content with it like my friend Alyssum. But until that day, maybe we can make the end seem… not so scary.” Crocus extended a hand to Curbita, leading her back to the Jamboree.