Be Not Idle

I’ve been driving after dark the last two days, and I’d forgotten how much I enjoy the sights and sounds of late autumn.

Despite summers spent near the shoreline of Marquette, Michigan, and my daily travels near the St. Clair River, I never tire of freighters. There’s something particularly majestic about a freighter at night, the forecastle lit like a small town and – better yet – rising high over the waterfront houses that block the pedestrian’s view. Wednesday night was a real sight: one of the Canadian freighters downbound and unusually low with cargo.

I enjoy the whispering of dry fallen leaves, especially now when the oak leaves are added into the mix. They rattle and scrape along the ground like something alive. It’s especially spooky when one hits the windshield like a brittle moth, startling me.

And then I’m forced to laugh at myself.

The goal of the NaNoWriMo is a completed 50K-word novel by December 1st. I believe I have about 250. *sigh*

Mary Shelly wrote, “The beginning is always today.” She just didn’t mention that sometimes the beginning is today, tomorrow, and the day after that. (When should I end this chapter?)

October 30th, also known as “Devil’s Night”, was a blast of Indian Summer. The temperature rose steadily in the afternoon until it was 70 degrees in the evening.  But no hoodlums came to egg my house or break my neighbors’ decorations – possibly because the worst teenagers moved out of the neighborhood.

The biggest excitement was the building of a haunted forest. Two high school boys asked permission from a neighbor to use his portion of the woods across the street from me. They cleared a path through the underbrush, strung cotton-thread spider webs along the boundaries, hung skeletons and severed heads, and dressed up (along with their girlfriends) to frighten the kiddies.  I gave them a few things, as I’m sure the other neighbors did.

One of the girls handed out candy in the middle of the forest – and did a great theatrical scream when a monster came from nowhere and bit her neck just after giving out the candy.  They were kind enough to modify it for the little ones, but it was still an adventure.

It was much cooler tonight and windy, but the silver of moon and the scrabbling of dry leaves lent atmosphere. My favorite moment was when a boy of about 8 escorted his mother through the woods, brandishing a sword. “I’ll protect you, Mom!” he yelled.

The Trick-or-Treaters were uniformly polite, with many homemade costumes. I couldn’t choose a favorite from the parade of mock horrors and dream careers. A baby dragon came in a little red wagon,  completed with  with skull and bones of victims dragging behind.  Several students came by, including a Spanish-speaking werewolf. A chubby-faced bear said “Hello, lady” instead of “Trick or treat”, but he remembered “thank you”  just fine.  The best costume was an elementary-school pirate: a brown felt hat and a girl’s blue peacoat modified with lace at the sleeves and gold rickrack across the chest.

This is what Halloween is for kids:  mocking fearful things with make-believe, walking after dark, and having an adventure.   The teenagers are talking about what they’re going to do for next year’s haunted trail.