Is that pumpkin really great? After sad fall seasons, she’s embracing her inner Linus

Like Charlie Brown, sometimes I don’t know what to think about the alleged greatness of pumpkins.

Fall, and its many mascots, can trigger feelings of stress. More than any other time of year, this season conjures sudden change. Sparkling swimming pools disappear under thick canvas covers. Extra daylight gets siphoned elsewhere. Schedules jam along with the traffic. Too much mental energy is spent on things like the who-is-hosting-Thanksgiving dance.

Is that a lawn aerator I hear, or is it the Hallmark Channel revving up its cheerful holiday propaganda engine?

You can try to ignore all of it, but even the trees troll you with on-fire colors and massive leaf drops. Taking a quiet walk turns into a loud crunch fest. We grab our rakes and discover the summer garage spiders have turned them into web looms.

This might be why stores know to push pumpkins. And it’s why we reach for them. They are the bright exclamation points that remind us to notice nature’s colorful beauty. To embrace change. To celebrate now, before the bright spectrum fades.

Or, they are irritants, depending on who you are and where you are in life. I have been through a few autumns where grief and worry and extra responsibilities have cast longer shadows. More than once, I was jarred by the sudden transition from leaving the beep-beep-beep sounds of visiting family members in hospitals to almost tripping over jack-o’-lanterns staring at me with their blank smiles. I understood why there was a band named Smashing Pumpkins.

I’ll never forget how furious I was at an over-decorated diner in New York many Octobers ago. I was on a break from one of those grim hospital visits, just trying to gather myself, and I couldn’t believe strangers had the gall to be so celebratory. A grinning Frankenstein is the worst thing to see when a loved one has just been literally stitched up. How dare they, I thought. Didn’t they know I was coming here for tea and silence?

These were the times I would think, “I am not playing this game. Throwing an orange orb into my shopping cart will not solve anything.”

Other ensuing years I partially resisted. I would ever so grudgingly buy a token pumpkin to plunk on the porch. I figured one can keep up minimal appearances without having to go with a full hay bale and scarecrow family display.

It’s almost like there’s a pumpkin index. The more orange spheres and harvest hues by the front door, the more A-OK the folks are behind it. Or maybe want to be. I have no idea. We might be observing “despite it all” pumpkins.

So now I’m giving in to a “despite it all” philosophy. A mini festooning is happening at home. This is the first time in years I have pulled out the plastic orange and black storage box. I never collected fall decor like perhaps an unleashed Linus would do in a Home Goods store, but I uncovered some cute, forgotten autumnal tchotchkes. Even a fresh pumpkin and blooming mums are gracing my front porch.

I admit I’m finding these things uplifting. And maybe that’s the point: Do not overthink pumpkins. If you can grasp pockets of joy any time of year, go with it. There’s no waiting for everything to be perfect. Life is a mixed bag, just like the opposing words in Charlie Brown’s catchphrase.

Good grief, bring on the pumpkins.

Reach Denise Snodell at stripmalltree@gmail.com.