Miss Ives believes that the leading cause of death in the pumpkin population is squirrel wounds, which are wounds inflicted on pumpkins by squirrels. Squirrels love to take little bites out of gourds and pumpkins while their bulking up for the winter, and these bites get infected. Miss Ives is on a mission to live forever, so she bought a sword. She’s gonna use that sword on the squirrels.

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