By posting pictures from early November I am avoiding writing about Justin Trudeau, Donald Trump, terrorist attacks, wars, climate change and whatever other chaos has crossed my path in recent days. I think I am trying to ease myself gently into the New Year.

Mind you, I’m trying to be more deliberate in my reading this year. I consume a lot of junk, light fiction that distracts me from pondering serious issues. If you are a reader, think “beach reads.”

Nothing wrong with the junk cleansing my palate between the meatier courses, as long as I do get to that meat. Friday I spent some time reading Jacques Ellul’s thoughts on desert and wasteland, then followed that up with some of Carl Trueman’s ruminations on gender. A thriller/mystery/spy novel was a welcome change before bed.

When I took these photos I planned to write about the pile of pumpkins. They were on the lawn of a nearby house, a post-Halloween drop-off for unwanted jack-o-lanterns. I had never seen anything like it before.

The donated pumpkins supposedly were going to combat local food insecurity, to be made into pumpkin pie and similar foods. I’m not sure how much is salvageable from a pumpkin that has been sitting out in the elements for a couple of weeks (or a couple of nights), but it struck me as an interesting idea.

Even if they all wound up just as animal feed, it keeps them out of the landfill. which is probably a good idea.