Wednesday, October 31, 2018


Dusk on a greyish Tuesday, when I'm on my way to the jail where I volunteer. This field full of forgotten pumpkins looked so lonesome, I had to stop and take a quick snap. A little fuzzy, to be sure -- even a little bit crooked -- but maybe that's appropriate, especially for where I was headed.

These pumpkins looked to me like orphans of a sort. Abandoned. Not big enough or pretty enough to get picked when the rest of the field was harvested for jack-o-lanterns. The ones left behind.

Just as I often wonder what will happen to the men I work with once they get out, I wonder what will happen to these pumpkins next week.


Janet Vickers said...

This is a beautiful thought. You have the spirit of a true poet by asking the difficult questions. Thank you for volunteering and for all that you do.

hg said...

Oh, Janet, as if you don't do plenty in your life too. We all must do what we can, and yes, we must keep asking the tough questions (and hopefully, finding answers now and then).