Foggoween

It crept in, it retreated, it returned; the evening was chilly, with but a dozen or so little celebrants. About the cutest thing I have ever seen was an almost two year old, angelic-faced little girl dressed up as a Great White Shark. She signed "thank you" as I put her treat in her tiny little pumpkin basket; her dad said she isn't talking a whole lot yet, but knows some ASL, which comes in handy for communication. Beloved spouse called her a Land Shark, which elicited a chuckle from her father. She was fascinated by the bedizened Spooky Tree I drag out of the far spookier basement every year; its cobwebs and bats get grayer and more weathered-looking with each passing Halloween. I applied another string of tiny lights this year, purple ones, to pep it up, and placed a skullish-looking white pumpkin with a face drawn on it at the base of the tree. The tiny Great White stood gazing at this assemblage, patting the pumpkin's face. I'm keeping it up for El Dia de los Muertos.