Sometimes your neighbor is just lazy. Halloween ends, the pumpkins collapse, and a plastic skeleton is forgotten in the yard. But take a closer look, because sometimes something else may be going on.

In the Liberty Wells neighborhood of Salt Lake City, a skeleton family has settled into long-term residency. Two adult skeletons occupy a bench near the sidewalk, waving cheerfully at passersby. Depending on the season, they’re dressed accordingly: flannel in the fall, bunny ears at Easter. A small skeleton dog joins them at times, and in spring a child-sized skeleton sprawls across the bench.

In Midvale, the approach is more narrative. A series of skeletons stretches across a brick rambler’s front yard and climbs toward the roofline, each posed as if whispering to the next. It takes a moment to register what’s happening: a full-scale game of telephone, frozen mid-message. The joke only lands if you walk past it.

And then there’s the house in South Salt Lake, where the decorations never come down at all. These skeletons in hoodies and formal wear have been there for years. One slumps quietly against a picket fence like a patient guardian. A skull-topped weather vane spins overhead. In the backyard, a skeleton rides a goat skull mounted on a children’s play structure.

None of these scenes are on any beaten path. They don’t ask for interpretation or explanation. They persist, quietly altering the daily walk, the drive home for those who care to glance out the car window. What begins as leftover Halloween décor slowly become neighborhood landmarks, evolving jokes, accidental installations. Another type of public art.

But yes, sometimes your neighbor just forgets to put the props away.

In Plain Site

With our In Plain Site byline we feature publicly viewable art, both official and street art, throughout the state of Utah.