Happy Hallowe'en

Time's playing tricks again; suddenly it's one of my favorite days of the year. And now that it's here I don't want to miss a single moment of it....

These early morning hours are brittle. Overhead, the Woman in the Moon is full and fabulous, and the stars pinned to her velvet cloak are brilliant. Standing in her light, I can hear leaf rustlings and smell woodsmoke. And I can taste winter on the wind....

Tomorrow there will be tombstones to set up and trick-or-treat bags to fill, a pumpkin to carve and a front door to flock in spiderweb. But for now, some sleep is in order.

So may I be the first to wish you a very special Hallowe'en, my friend, and share my hopes for a new year that is full of promise and prosperity.

Let the magick begin!

:)
...

Inching Forward

It's a late October day of clouds.

The neighborhood's been fairly silent this afternoon. No deafening leaf blowers and lawn mowers, no droning street sweepers and wood chippers. Just birdsong. And the static crackle of leaves dancing down the street.

My house is dark and still, as though not even I am here. I have no substance today.

My invisibility has been coming on steadily by degrees since before Fest was even over. At that time I'd been reduced to just a hologram, powered by a rechargeable battery that was in the process of irrevocably losing its memory. Every smile started out bright and began fading at once, and it hurt significantly just to pull enough juice from somewhere to generate another.

And today there are few smiles. My post-Fest agenda has burned me out completely. It's been a difficult month....

But I think it's a good sign that for the last five minutes I've been writing.

I may feel depleted. I may feel as though my well's gone dry. But it amuses me to notice that as soon as I'm able to function at all it's not a sketch pad and a pencil that I turn to. It's not even my books or my pets or my music. It's words.

And who do I write to? You.

I have missed you.

...

Snowflakes and Smiles

(Would you believe we're supposed to be napping?)

There are snowflakes in my village today! Only a few, but still.

And I have yet to pay attention proper to my favorite season of the year, so if they know what's good for them, they'd better make their visit brief. Just sayin'.

Because there are still loose Fest-related ends to gather and tie, belated birthdays to celebrate, Halloween flotsam to gleefully wade through, and so much battening down of hatches to do before the snow comes.

And dang if this girl's battery isn't down for the count....

But it's not so depleted that I can't enjoy a Bug Day. And yesterday was IT. I got to pick my eldest Bug up from preschool and hold her mittened hand all the way back to my house, stopping repeatedly to check out fairy-sized holes in oak trees and add acorn caps to our pockets. Every step of our walk was a cold and blustery adventure, its soundtrack one of wind in the trees and the crunch of leaf piles underfoot and the enthusiastic, run-on sentence delightfulness that is the Grandbug's communication style, itself animated dramatically and told in notes that only dogs can hear.

Before our coats were even off at our destination she was cleaning pet dishes and dispensing foodstuffs (she takes her jobs at my house uber-seriously), and then we were on the floor together, re-enacting at her suggestion her favorite moments of this year's Festival. A stuffed chicken became the Piccolo Pony. A toy firetruck was the ladder for our dolls to mount it. (One doll was afraid she'd fall, but another said in a cute cartoon voice, "I will hold onto you. You'll see -- it's FUN.") Then a plastic bowl became the Butterfly Ride. As Avery gently twirled the bowl in the air she said to me, "Gramma, remember when you took me on the Butterfly Ride? That ride was awesome." (Said with her characteristic lisp -- 'awe-thumb.' The ride is a no-frills device made to rotate as a result of two adults in the center pushing it manually. This girl has already been on theme park stuff that would give me nightmares, but she remembers the Butterfly Ride. And it was awesome....)

Later on, Grampa James surprised her by arriving home early (I'm not the only one who thinks a Bug Day is worth dropping everything for) and he suggested we all bundle up and walk to nearby Hardees for lunch. Avery explained to him that her walk with me from preschool earlier was all fun and stuff but "my armth and legth and feet and handth got really really tired!", so he dug the stroller out from the garage and tucked her into it for the trip. Hamburgers got cold what with all the excited talking, but milk was consumed so I called it a satisfactory lunch. And on the way home we took a more scenic route and I asked her what her favorite part of the day was so far and she said, "All of it."

Once back again at Tumbledown, Avery informed us that she was tired and demanded that all three of us cram into my bed for a nap. But a book must be read first, of course. Bless her, she picked Where's Waldo and searched each page with serious intent, which allowed me and Grampa to, ahem, 'rest our eyes' in turn. (Because there's a brand of tired that only Bugs can manufacture, and it'll knock.you.OUT.)

No napping occurred. No surprises there. But there's just something about spending a chilly Autumn afternoon curled up on a candlewick bedspread with a book and a Bug.

I may have felt even more tired afterward, but my heart was charged to the absolute max. :)
...

The End of a Season

A yawn.

A contented sigh.

I can almost feel Mayfaire curl up like a cat in the sun and close its eyes.

It was a good season! And hugs to all who made it so. :)
...