Spooks and Snow

Night before last, the hail pinging on the window above my bed called me to come and look from the back door. The tiny hailstones heaped upon the back deck, then blew away, leaving slippery ice in the morning, to the consternation of the dogs.

In my late-afternoon errands, the overcast sky drifted high above with stories of clouds in shapes and shadows, and the mountain gray with a thin dash of snow, just from the night.

Tonight, goblins will come. Young Ron and Katie across the street have a hierarchy of carved pumpkins, a lighted cornstalk path through scattered hay and huge purple spiderwebs to their door. Looks like a gremlin-grabber to me.

Adrienne and I, newly among the living, cannot rise to carve our pumpkins, so Adrienne has dressed one in a cowboy hat and the other in a bandanna, with twinkly lights. We plan to put the goodies outside in a bowl, with a sign saying “Take only two. Boo!”

Us? We’re going to hide, deep inside the darkened house, and watch a really silly movie.