October 2025
Painted Pumpkins & the Magic of Ritual 🎃
October always feels like the month where the air shifts—whether you live somewhere with crisp leaves and sweater weather or, like me, in a place where the palm trees stubbornly hold onto their green, the rhythm of life still changes. The days feel shorter, the light comes through the windows at a lower angle, and suddenly I find myself craving rituals: the cozy, repetitive things that make autumn feel like autumn no matter the zip code.
For me, one of those rituals is pumpkins.
Not just the carving (though the memory of scooping seeds onto newspaper will always be a core childhood memory), but pumpkins as objects, as shapes, as colors. There’s something both whimsical and grounding about them—like nature’s most charming still life. They’re playful and a little funny, but they also carry centuries of symbolism: abundance, harvest, mystery, even protection.
This October, the minis I’m painting for you are pumpkins.
The Shapes of the Season
One of my favorite things about painting pumpkins is how imperfect they are. None of them are truly round. They’re lopsided, a little wonky, sometimes with unexpected ridges or stems that twist dramatically to one side. When you really look at them, no two are the same.
I love that.
In a way, painting pumpkins is like painting portraits. You’re capturing a personality more than an object. A tall, skinny gourd feels different than a plump, squat one. A pale sage green pumpkin whispers something entirely different than the classic orange. It’s not just a vegetable—it’s a character.
And as I’ve been painting them for October minis, I’ve tried to let that individuality shine. Some are playful, almost cartoon-like, while others lean more muted and painterly. Each little canvas is a reminder that beauty is rarely symmetrical.
The Ritual of Repetition
Something I’ve been noticing about myself since starting this subscription is how much I need rituals to ground my creativity. Painting pumpkins this month has reminded me that repetition isn’t boring—it’s meditative.
I sit down with my paints, sketch out the curves of the pumpkin, add the ridges and shading, highlight the stem. Over and over again. Each one is slightly different, but the rhythm of it keeps me steady.
In a world that feels so unpredictable (and in a creative practice that’s often about chasing the next idea), there’s something comforting about repeating a shape, a subject, a season. Pumpkins in October. Maybe pine trees in December. The cycle continues, and with each one, I find new details I didn’t notice before.
Little Life Updates 🍂
This October has been full of its own abundance, beyond the pumpkins. My family recently moved closer to us, which has been such a joy—I find myself cherishing the smaller, everyday moments together. I’ve been balancing a handful of original painting commissions and teaching embroidery classes for different groups, both of which keep me inspired in new ways.
I’ll also be back at House on Lang for another fall market on October 26, which feels like a bit of a seasonal homecoming. And in the middle of it all, I traveled up to New England for a brand trip that doubled as a little fall adventure. Walking under crisp leaves, seeing the coastline in its autumn light—it reminded me why I’m always so drawn to coastal nostalgia in my work.
What Pumpkins Teach Us 🎨
If you’ll indulge me for a moment—I think pumpkins have a few lessons to offer.
On growth: Pumpkins start as sprawling vines, wild and messy, before becoming something whole and tangible. A good reminder that creative work doesn’t have to look pretty in the middle to turn into something worthwhile at the end.
On imperfection: The quirks—the bend in a stem, the uneven ridges—are what make each one memorable. Just like people, just like art.
On cycles: Pumpkins are part of the harvest, a yearly reminder that things come in seasons. That endings can be beautiful beginnings, too.
As I’ve been painting these minis, I’ve been thinking about the cycles in my own life: seasons of growth, seasons of change, and the small rituals that help me keep my footing. Pumpkins are simple, but they hold all that wisdom inside their cheerful little shells.
So this October, may you find beauty in the imperfect, comfort in your own rituals, and a reminder that abundance doesn’t have to mean “a lot”—sometimes it just means enough.