I had not known that pumpkins come in colors other than orange. The white ones are particularly photogenic, not sure if they are equally suited for soup compared to the ones more familiar to me. I like pumpkin soup, and do not like pumpkin pie – riddle me that. Then again, pumpkin bread is a constant fall companion as my ever increasing hip volume can testify.

The poem I chose for today mentions pumpkin bread – as a kind, if futile, gesture towards someone struck by tragedy. I was caught by the poem as a “matter of fact, don’t really spell it out, let the insight hit a moment later” – piece of writing.

The music matches the mood.

Let me counterbalance the sadness with some of the most exuberant art currently on the scene:

https://www.dma.org/kusama

Yayoi Kusama is something else altogether, whether she applies her polka dots to pumpkins or anything else. The woman is creativity incarnate. I’m drooling over her energy…. https://www.nytimes.com/2017/11/03/arts/design/yayoi-kusama-david-zwirner-festival-of-life-review.html

Better get back drooling over the pumpkin bread….