Have you ever had a dream that you were asleep and then woke up in your dream and then realized you were dreaming? I had one once and only stayed lucid for a minute because as soon as I realized I was awake in my dream a beam of light came through the ceiling, surrounded my body and floated me across the hallway into a giant silver butthole. Haven’t had another lucid dream since, even thought I try every night.

Ah, behold! A quaint wooden pumpkin, no larger than a squirrel’s daydream. It hangs by a sneaky length of twine — rustic, possibly stolen from a scarecrow’s belt, and perfect for hanging upon a crooked nail or the branch of a particularly contemplative tree. It sways ever so slightly in the breeze, murmuring secrets of forgotten festivals and the laughter of scarecrows long since retired. A curious charm, indeed — like something a lost soul might carry in their pocket, just in case the forest starts to hum. Useful? Questionable. Whimsical? Deeply.

DO NOT PUT THESE OUTSIDE IT WILL GET GROSS