In the city of Philadelphia, during the summer Italian festival, people grease up a pole and hand cured meats and cheeses from the top. The first team to construct a stable human pyramid to get someone to the top of the pole gets those cured meats and cheeses. It is a lovely and wonderful sight to behold.

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