I don’t think I ever loved the idea of carving pumpkins as a kid. At least not as much as I do as an adult.

I have fond memories of going to the pumpkin patch and picking out a sizable gourd. But do I lovingly remember carving it once we got home? Not so much.

I’m not artistic, so I never had a jack-o’-lantern that actually looked good. With an utter lack of creative insight, I usually stabbed out two triangle eyes. Maybe a nose. And a big, jagged-toothed grin which always lost a tooth or two due to my uncoordinated wielding of the carving knife.

Plus, it’s messy. I’m sort of prissy about getting dirty now, but when I was younger it was considerably worse.

To be honest, the only recollection I have of childhood pumpkin carving is a photo. I was probably about 10 years old, in my pajamas, sticking my retainer out at the camera. How charming.

I decided early this year to step up my pumpkin-carving game. I’ve got a pattern, a perfectly round carving surface and determination.

I even intend to clean up the innards and roast some pumpkin seeds.

But despite all my planning -- I’ve had my supplies for about three weeks now -- I’ve still got two unadulterated pumpkins decorating my front porch.

So much for that determination part.

The weather is partly to blame -- the fear of my perfectly crafted jack-o’-lantern rotting in the sun before the end of the month was not a thought I wanted to entertain.

Through my various forays in the craft world -- I’ve recently fancied myself a sewing/knitting/crafting/baking-machine -- I’ve certainly gained more confidence in my artistic abilities.

But there’s always the possibility that I will overestimate my skill, mar my pumpkin irreparably and be forced to dispose of it rather than display it with pride.

And isn’t there just something beautiful about a plain ol’ pumpkin? Something warm and comforting and cozy?

According to the History Channel, the United States produces 1.5 billion pounds of pumpkins every year, most of which are sold in the month of October. Forty-six percent of American adults carve a pumpkin at Halloween each year.

For other carving procrastinators out there, the History Channel’s website is a surprisingly comprehensive resource for information and pumpkin-carving tips.

It’s certainly not too late to carve -- I’ve known people who wait until Halloween Eve to exhibit their gourd art. I can make it into that 46 percent yet!

But despite my initial jack-o’-lantern enthusiasm, I’m just as satisfied with the pumpkins-and-hay decor I currently boast.

It may not foster pumpkin carving memories, but it’s a lot less messy.