Green Goddess: 'My Hallowe'en outfit was a cardboard box transformed into an Oxo cube'

MANY'S the time I've wished I were somewhere else, but this week I really mean it. Why? Because this week the small town of Sammamish on the outskirts of Seattle will be experiencing the annual event known as Nightmare on Beaver Lake.

My best friend from university now lives there and has regaled me with tales of this Hallowe'en extravaganza. Imagine walking along a pitch-black woodland trail where you encounter tumbledown shacks housing axe murderers or chainsaw-wielding maniacs blocking your way. In reality, these characters are heavily made-up local am dram enthusiasts, but by all accounts it is a truly terrifying experience.

Yes, the Americans know how to "celebrate" Hallowe'en. Forget shop-bought costumes; one year it was a cardboard box transformed into an Oxo cube and the next year it was the same cardboard box revamped into a dice. Then it was time to wow the neighbours with songs and jokes - even the ones who'd drawn their curtains, turned out the lights and were pretending not to be in. They would be regaled through the letter box until some monkey nuts came flying out of the window at us.

But what about the environmental implications of Hallowe'en? Or, to be more specific, pumpkins. I was watching a report on TV the other night about Europe's biggest pumpkin farm, run by David Bowman of Spalding, Lincolnshire. Despite the summer's mixed weather, he has a crop of three million all ready to be carved with creepy expressions. "Shocking," came a voice from the other side of the sofa. "What a waste." I'm a live-and-let-live kinda girl, but on this occasion I couldn't help agreeing. Think of all the fertilisers and pesticides and transport that have gone into producing and getting this crop to market, only for it to be used and abused for one night before being discarded.

The outrage lasted about a day and a half until a friend pointed out that if you used the scooped-out innards to make soup, toasted the seeds and composted the remains, then the pumpkin had actually been a shining example of a multipurpose, eco-friendly product. (See previous page for my colleague Tom Kitchin's recipes.) Still feeling disgruntled, I retreated back into the mists of time and found an absence of pumpkins in those memories. Didn't we used to carve turnips at Hallowe'en?

I remember it being nigh-on impossible to get a satisfactory result as they're so darned hard. The turnip, however, was the authentic choice of jack o'lantern, inspired by an Irish folk tale. The gist involves a man called Jack whose deal with the devil turns sour so he has to wander eternally, barred from both heaven and hell, with just a turnip lantern to light his way. I wonder if they'll be telling that tale over at Beaver Lake? In terms of my own gardening experience, turnips are an easier option than pumpkins, but I'd rather eat roast pumpkin soup than turnip broth so next weekend I'll be having my jack o'lantern US-style, while wondering what costume I can transform the cardboard box into this year.