Frost paints the edges of the yard. Nights are longer, daylight treasured. The sun sneaks up in the morning, silhouetting trees against a grey sky. Leaves paint the path as branches begin to bare their winter beauty. Fall battles summer, tossing acorns and walnuts at the naysayers. Magic.
I love this time of year. I think you do too, Dwight. You start your morning nudge, ready to go out, at my first sip of coffee. You leap like a gazelle as we wander through the woods, eager to explore. Our walks are longer. Fall change is good. It’s time to cut the spent blooms of summer. Embrace nature’s autumn displays. Crisp morning air invites sweatshirts, but warm sunshine keeps them unzipped. Aromas of warm soups, apples and baking wrap around the kitchen table, inviting us to linger a little longer.
Fall is a gift with Halloween smack in the middle. This time of year rakes up fond childhood memories of picking out costumes at the Dime Store. Plastic masks with eye and nose holes that never matched up with my own, and an elastic strap that pulled at the back of my hair. Wendy Witch from Casper. Huckleberry Hound. Homemade Hobo costumes, with a bandana on a stick. Black grease under my eyes. A ghost with eye holes cut into a sheet, that ghoulishly wandered above and below my real eyes.
Pretending. Not hiding behind a mask, but embracing being something else for just one night. Walking in the dark with a group of friends, filling pillow case sacks with sweet treasures as we ran from house to house. Dumping our loot on the kitchen table at the end of the night, assessing our bounty. Pure decadence.
I’m too old to trick or treat, Dwight, but I still enjoy opening the door to squeals of “trick or treat”, coming from pretend super heroes, princesses, and ghouls. I thought I’d share my love of the season with you. I found a bandana and a small cowboy hat, thinking you would make an adorable Deputy Dog. Perfect costume for my best dog friend.
You graciously allowed the donning of the bandana,
_but you weren’t feeling the hat.
You kept in on long enough for a photo op. I passed the costume on to your BFF, Frasier. I guess you don’t need to dress up to feel the magic D Man. Me neither. Happy Howloween buddy.
dear-dwight 