Halloween 2025 – carved art on the old Bynum bridge

In the nearby community of Bynum, Halloween is celebrated with knives, pumpkins, and candles. The resulting Jack-O-Lanterns are placed upon the railings of an old, graffitied bridge for all to see.

Art is best shared with friends, so I invited Susan, a professional artist, and Tony, a published author, to join me on a walk across the pumpkin bridge.

I parked near Matt and Dana’s house up the hill, and we walked past the brightly decorated yards, joining a tide of costumed people, young and old, flowing down towards the river.

The sky was dark by the time we reached the bridge, pumpkins glowing brightly on their railing perches.

“I love this,” I thought, feeling like a tiny speck beneath the moon. It occurred to me that almost everyone on that bridge had likely carved into at least one pumpkin during their lifetime, no doubt taught to handle the sharp knife with care by their parents, who learned from their parents, and back across generations.

With the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program due to run out of funds tomorrow due to a prolonged government shutdown, I wasn’t surprised to see the words, “You can’t be pro-life and anti-snap.”

I clicked away, hoping to capture the Halloween-on-the-bridge vibe.

This elaborate fly carving was extremely popular, so I waited for my turn to photograph it.

We wondered how long it took to etch such an image.

I took a fancy to the birds as eyes and nose, and bat as mouth version, an innovation I have never seen before.

This one reminded me that it’s been too many months since I visited Tractor Supply Company with its rugged clothing, plastic farm animals, and horse notions.

I found myself trying to visualize the person behind each work of art. Perhaps I will come early next year and get in on the action.

Halfway back across the bridge, Emma and Soren stepped out of the darkness. Susan was talking and Emma said, “I know that voice!”

“Where’d you get that drink?” I asked.

“At the Community Center. Check it out.”

So, we did. Talk about warm fuzzies. There were bathrooms, baked goods, and an atmosphere of relaxed congeniality. Communal celebration is the antidote to political grief and uncertainty. True power resides in small neighborhoods!