Halloween.
Sly does it. Tiptoe catspaws. Slide and creep.
But why? What for? How? Who? When! Where did it all begin?
"You don't know, do you?" asks Carapace Clavicle Moundshroud climbing out of the pile of leaves under the Halloween Tree. "You don't really know!"
"Well." answers Tom the Skeleton, "er-no."
Was it-

In Egypt four thousand years ago, on the anniversary of the big death of the sun?
Or a million years before that, by the night fires of the cavemen?
Or in Druid Britain at the Ssssswooommmm of Samhain's scythe?
Or among the witches, all across Europe-multitudes of hags, crones, magicians, demons, devils?
Or high above Paris, where strange creatures froze to stone and lit the gargoyles of Notre Dame?
Or in Mexico, in the cemeteries full of candlelight and tiny candy people on El Dia de los Muertos-the Day of the Dead?
Or where?

A thousand pumpkin smiles look down from the Halloween Tree, and twice-times-a-thousand fresh cut eyes glare and wink and blink, as Moundshroud leads the eight trick-or-treaters-no, nine, But where is Pipkin?-on a leaf-tossed, kite-flying, gliding, broomstick-riding trip to learn the secret of All Hallows' Eve.
And they do.
"Well," asks Moundshroud at journey's end. "which was it? Trick or a Treat?"
"Both!" all agree.
And so will you.


[That, my friends and fam, is the intro to Ray Bradbury's bookThe Halloween Tree. Thanks Wes and Anne! I think I'm going to love it.]

[And so much for my series of Halloween in Edgebrook photos. TWICE did I take off for a walk, a different camera each time, BOTH with dead batteries. I think I need to become a better photographer who knows about crazy things like undead batteries before I go tryin' a hoity-toity photo series). (Sigh.)]