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This is Halloween, This is Halloween…

№256 ~2 minutes

In which it wouldn’t be Halloween without our traditional pumpkin carving.

It wouldn’t be Halloween without the Eriksson family tradition, where we get together to have a few drinks, a bite to eat and carve a gathering of pumpkins.

And whilst I was making pizza for everyone, Rebecka entertained our guests by reading their fortunes using her Tarot cards.

Rebecka reading people's fortune using Tarot cards.
Look deeper, things are not always what they seem. You have more options than you think.

After everyone’s fortunes had been read, the time had finally come to get our hands soiled with pumpkin innards.

This year also saw the addition of crafting knifes to our growing arsenal of pumpkin carving tools.

Which came in handy when I was trying to sculpt the teeth for my pumpkin.

Carlos and Rebecka Eriksson carving their pumpkins.
Buckets of pumpkin innards filled the table as 6 people carved a pumpkin each.

Some of our guests, like Steve and his flaming head pumpkin, had finished carving before I was even half-way done.

I’d like to say that I was taking my time and being detail-oriented but really I suppose I’m slow and never really sure what I’m doing.

Close up of pumpkins illuminated from the candles inside them.
I realise afterwards that the eyes on my pumpkin look really weird.

In the end we all got there even though some of us had to forgo their original plan of carving the words, “The Wi-Fi is down,” into a pumpkin and instead settle for, “The W,” when they realised how much work it involved.

6 Jack O'Lanterns illuminated from the candles inside them and a Happy Halloween greeting from the Eriksson family.
My favourite this year is Rebecka's castle and spooky face which uses negative space in a way I had never even considered.

I’ll leave you now, with this poem I just made up. Inspired by Vincent Price’s narration in Michael Jackson’s Thriller.

As darkness falls across the land and the midnight hour is close at hand. Wake up my child and shed your mud to crawl the land in search of blood. And when your night comes to its end and you are without a step to spend. Just rest your weary bones on this eve of fright and to all of you, a ghastly good night.

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There are 35 more entries from 2015. See all the entries.