Tag: Halloween

  • Why did pumpkin become the protagonist of Halloween?

    The Story of Halloween and the Pumpkin Patch

    October 31 marks Halloween in the West—a holiday that still feels strange and unfamiliar to me. Even after living in the United States for four years, I find it difficult to fully embrace a festival so rooted in a different culture. Like many Western holidays, Halloween has strong religious undertones. The word “Halloween” is derived from “All Hallows’ Eve,” meaning the evening before All Saints’ Day. According to legend, during this night, spirits and supernatural beings are free to roam the earth, and people wear costumes to disguise themselves and avoid harm.

    There’s a famous tale behind this tradition. Long ago, a man named Jack encountered the devil after a night of drinking. Cleverly, he carved a cross into a nearby tree, trapping the devil. After some negotiation, the devil agreed never to take Jack to hell. But when Jack eventually died, he was denied entry to heaven due to his sinful life—and true to his word, the devil also refused to take him in. Instead, he tossed Jack a burning coal from hell. Jack placed the ember in a hollowed-out turnip to protect it from the wind and began wandering the earth, searching endlessly for rest. People later called him “Jack of the Lantern,” or Jack-o’-lantern.

    This legend originated in Ireland, where turnips were commonly used to carve Jack’s face. But when Irish immigrants brought the tradition to America in the 19th century, they discovered that pumpkins—softer, naturally hollow, and much larger—were a perfect substitute. And so, by happy coincidence, the pumpkin became the enduring symbol of Halloween.

    Pumpkin Season in Solvang

    One sunny weekend, two weeks before Halloween, we drove to a pumpkin patch near Solvang, a charming Danish-style town, to buy pumpkins in bulk.

    The pumpkin patch owner clearly had an artistic touch. Pumpkins these days are no longer just orange or ordinary. Many now follow a cute, cartoonish aesthetic. Some are green and bashful, others whimsical and wildly imaginative.

    Interestingly, you don’t even need to carve pumpkins to make them come alive. A simple paintbrush can turn any gourd into a vivid character. The key is to work with the pumpkin’s natural shape—something the artist behind these creations clearly understands. One playful pumpkin, shaped just right, looked like it was mid-laugh. It was a perfect example of creativity meeting nature.

    The pricing was also quite reasonable. A giant pumpkin cost less than $10—more than worth it for the joy of participation. At the front of the patch, even the flower arrangements were made of pumpkins, and above the door, red chili peppers hung in celebration of the harvest.

    The owner had another side business too: a large cornfield turned into a maze. Visitors could buy their pumpkins, then test their navigation skills in the labyrinth—another clever way to make use of the land and add fun to the experience.

    The weather, as usual in this region, was perfectly sunny. The corn was full and ripe—it was clearly a year of plenty.

    In one area, the largest pumpkins were gathered—not for sale, but as a resting and photo spot. There were also mini pumpkins, about the size of a fist, ideal for painting or small carvings—perfect for anyone who prefers a “cute” style.

    Under the afternoon sun, the scattered pumpkins glowed with a golden hue. Parents wandered the fields with their children, searching for just the right pumpkin. Although they all looked similar, finding “the one” was no easy task.

    Choosing a pumpkin also means imagining what it could become—a scary face, a goofy grin, a detailed painting. It’s a small but meaningful act of creativity.

    A snapshot of the cornfields and pumpkins captured the cheerful essence of an American farm in autumn.

    In a side section, enormous pumpkins were neatly lined up. These were more for decoration than carving—most people wouldn’t take on the challenge of hollowing one out. Some unusually shaped pumpkins were perfect for painting into elves or ghouls, or simply displayed as they were.

    Each pumpkin seemed to have its own destiny. Those that were chosen glowed with purpose; the rest waited patiently, as if expecting the right hands to find them.

    Immersed in the golden sea of pumpkins, you suddenly forget all other colors. The world becomes a canvas of radiant orange and yellow—and for a moment, you feel completely surrounded by autumn.

  • The Scarecrow Competition in Solvang

    October 2012 — Solvang, A Little Danish Town

    Solvang, the charming Danish-style town less than 40 miles from Santa Barbara, always feels like a hidden gem. The drive alone is beautiful, and within an hour, you’re transported into a slice of Europe—something rare in most parts of the world.

    We’ve visited many times, but each trip still lights up our eyes. With a population of just over 5,000, Solvang is bursting with warmth and creativity. It’s the kind of place that leaves you both physically and emotionally refreshed.

    Whenever a traditional holiday approaches, the entire town transforms with festive decorations. Every storefront showcases its own imaginative twist. I’ve lived in the U.S. for three years now, and this year, I decided to truly celebrate Halloween for the first time. Maybe I’m finally starting to integrate into the rhythm of American traditions.

    It was a bright Saturday morning when we arrived, walking and exploring along the way. We got to Solvang around 11 a.m., still running on empty stomachs but eager to wander.

    The town was hosting its Third Annual Scarecrow Creative Contest. True to its name, scarecrows—intended to scare crows, of course—lined the streets in every imaginable form. Each store had brought out its best ideas, and tourists could vote for their favorites.

    Danish flags fluttered above the streets, adding to the festive mood.

    You might not believe this is late autumn in Solvang. The wide-angle lens on my camera didn’t exaggerate—it simply captured the striking atmosphere. Fallen leaves scattered across the central lawn reminded us that, yes, autumn had arrived.

    Outside an old watch shop stood a fairytale-like wooden cuckoo clock. I ended up waiting there 15 extra minutes, just to catch the little bird pop out to chime the hour.

    Next to it, a pumpkin-man stood by the door—complete with working clock hands to show the time.

    Storefront windows were filled with dazzling displays. If you’re visiting for the first time, you’ll likely feel overwhelmed in the best way.

    A pumpkin zombie uncle sat at a street corner, holding a severed hand with eerie calm.

    A roadside horse sculpture caught my eye—something about it felt oddly grim.

    Another pumpkin character lounged nearby, sipping wine as he watched the street life roll by.

    A pumpkin Viking guarded the door of a coffee shop—more curious than fierce, almost like another tourist.

    Above a nearby house, a bird perched silently on the chimney. Don’t worry—it’s not real.

    Would you spend a night in one of Solvang’s quaint hotels? Each building here is unique—nothing like the gray concrete jungles we know. Bright colors dominate the palette. That’s just the Solvang style.

    Jingling horse-drawn carriages serve as public transport for tourists. Neat little pouches behind the horse keep things tidy and eco-friendly.

    On one corner, a clown encouraged passersby to vote for his scarecrow.

    Some entries, like the one made by Art Hus, were a bit rough around the edges—but that’s part of the charm.

    There’s a calm, leisurely spirit that defines Solvang. It makes you slow down without realizing it.

    Even politics found its way in: one older gentleman—clearly a Republican supporter—rode around town, spreading his message. The U.S. election was everywhere that year. I couldn’t help but wonder, when will we have that kind of voice?

    At a local bakery, their scarecrow had a face and hands made entirely of bread.

    The bakery window display made my stomach growl. That was my cue—I headed into a small restaurant for lunch.

    Of course, no October visit would be complete without pumpkins. So off we went to the pumpkin patch. See you there!