The Witching Fields

One of my fondest experiences and scent memories is when we lived in Half Moon Bay right next to an endless growing Pumpkin patch. KC and I would sneak over from time to time around midnight. We were frightened and thrilled at the thought of getting caught, and loved how eerie all those pumpkins looked in the foggy, moonlight, endless shapes and sizes and colors, and the sticky, thorny vines twisting and hurting a little when you brushed up against them. We resisted and never took even one, but we loved frolicking in that patch under the moonlight every year, and hearing in the not too far distance, the roar of the ocean. Imagine endless rows of pumpkins, under an eerie cloudy moonlight sky, cool coastal air drifting from the ocean, damp, dank earth under your feet, gnarled, twisted vines as far as your eyes can see. Just the sound of your beating heart, occasional owl scratching and hooting, and the distant roar of the ocean, still, beautiful, haunting, and forbidden.