A snowcapped pumpkin decays gently atop a tree stump
The snow and ice obliterate color, painting the neighborhood monochromatic shades of "unbleached titanium white, straight from the tube, and Payne's gray, diluted," as my mother put it recently. It's well below freezing as I take my "daily ramble," to borrow a phrase from my father (though he takes his rambles at night, up to the Krown) and I'm already getting concerned that the photos I'm taking so far are "too white" (a big concern in any context these days), so between that and the cold I'm relieved to spot a dab of color on the landscape, a snowcapped pumpkin decaying gently atop a tree stump adorned below with a red "No Parking" sign.
It's easy to neglect things in winter, and I suppose that once you get about midway through November and still haven't disposed of your Halloween pumpkins, there's really no reason not to just let them sit there until spring. I had Christmas lights up in my apartment in New York that I didn't take down one winter and they stayed up for the next several years, until I moved out, in fact, and I don't think my parents take down the Christmas lights on the porch all year either. I'm pretty sure the Christmas tree itself would still be on the porch too if I hadn't dragged it to the curb myself the other morning. It was a reflex, part of my perpetual quest to tidy up my parents house, but I kind of regret it now. Perhaps I should have let the tree sit there, grow new roots, so to speak, become part of the permanent landscape ... at least until spring.