Carving Quietly

“A quiet celebration with a little glow of our own.”

A Walk for a Pumpkin

It was the day before Halloween, and I was out for my daily walk. I had promised my boyfriend I’d pick up a pumpkin for him to carve. I didn’t want to buy one too early, afraid it might spoil before the festivities. The day was cool, brisk, and cloudy — perfect autumn weather. I put on my trench coat and newsboy cap and set out.

The sun peeked through the gray clouds as I walked in the early afternoon. After about a kilometre, I arrived at the discount grocery store and spotted the pumpkins still on sale. I chose a medium-sized one — smooth, firm, and mostly unblemished, though it had no stem. It was perfect: not too big, not too small, just right.

I picked out a few fruits and vegetables for salads and snacks before heading home with the pumpkin in tow. It wasn’t heavy, but it was awkward to carry. Luckily, I had a sturdy shoulder bag to make the walk easier.

When I arrived back at our apartment, I was greeted by the rhythmic tapping of my boyfriend’s keyboard. He smiled when he saw the pumpkin. I put away the groceries and placed it on display in the living room.

Since we lived in an adult-only apartment, we didn’t need to buy candy — there were no trick-or-treaters here. A small perk of apartment life.

Growing up, Halloween had never been much of a celebration in our family. At my parents’ house, we used to turn off the lights and hide in the basement to avoid the few trick-or-treaters who wandered by. Ours was a quiet neighbourhood, and Halloween came and went without much fuss.

Carving Day

The next day, my boyfriend decided it was time to carve. What he created was a goofy smile with triangle eyes and a small nose — a cheerful little face for our balcony. He lifted off the lid and placed a camping lantern inside. The soft glow against the dark sky felt perfect.

While he admired his handiwork, I cleaned up the mess and tended to the insides. I rinsed and separated the pumpkin seeds from the gooey pulp, then patted them dry. On a foil-lined baking sheet, I sprinkled the seeds with olive oil and salt. The pumpkin pieces we’d carved out went onto another tray, prepared the same way.

Both trays went into the oven at 425°F. I stirred the seeds every few minutes to prevent burning and tested the pumpkin pieces for tenderness with a fork.

After about twenty minutes, the seeds were golden and crisp. The pumpkin pieces took about an hour — stringy, salty, and full of that deep, earthy pumpkin flavour. The apartment filled with warmth and the scent of roasted squash.

Pumpkin Spiced Lattes

Later that afternoon, I used some of the roasted pumpkin pieces to make Pumpkin Spiced Lattes — a request from my boyfriend.

I mashed two tablespoons of pumpkin pulp into a saucepan with a pinch of salt, brown sugar, and pumpkin spice. Over medium heat, I stirred until it became a syrupy mixture, then added milk and let it warm slowly.

Meanwhile, I brewed fresh coffee, the rich aroma mingling with pumpkin and spice. I poured one-third coffee into each cup, topped it with the warm milk mixture, and added a swirl of whipped cream.

We sat at our laptops, sipping quietly — a small, cozy moment shared between us.

A Little Tradition

Years ago, I had entered a pumpkin-carving contest at work. I painted my pumpkin white, decorated it with sequins, and outlined the features in black for a Day of the Dead theme. It wasn’t fancy — just a little project with dollar-store materials. I didn’t win, but I was proud of my creation.

By the time Halloween came around, though, most of the pumpkins had already started to rot. Seeing them wilt and collapse in garbage bins always made me a bit sad.

This year was different. Our pumpkin lasted just long enough. It glowed on the balcony for one crisp October night, and we enjoyed every bit of it — from the light to the roasted seeds and the lattes that made the apartment feel extra cozy.

It was a low-key celebration — no candy, no costumes, just a pumpkin, some laughter, and the kind of warmth that costs almost nothing but feels like everything.

Messy, yes. But worth it.