* * * * *

“Twice-times-a-thousand glares and winks and blinks and leerings of fresh-cut
                                    eyes.”

> There must have been a thousand pumpkins on this tree, hung high and on
> every branch. A thousand smiles. A thousand grimaces. And twice-times-a-
> thousand glares and winks and blinks and leerings of fresh-cut eyes.
>
> And as the boys watched, a new thing happened.
>
> The pumpkins began to come alive.
>
> One by one, starting at the bottom of the Tree and the nearest pumpkins,
> candles took fire within the raw interiors. This one and then that and this
> and then still another, and on up and around, three pumpkins here, seven
> pumpkins still higher, a dozen clustered beyond, a hundred, five hundred, a
> thousand pumpkins lit their candles, which is to say brightened up their
> faces, showed fire in their square or round or curiously slanted eyes.
> Flame guttered in their toothed mouths. Sparks leaped out their ripe-cut
> ears.
>
> 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 cemeteries full of candlelight and tiny candy people on El
> Dia de los Muertos—the Day of the Dead?
>
> Or where?
>
> “_The Halloween Tree_ [1]” by Ray Bradbury [2]
>

_The Halloween Tree_ [3], my favorite Ray Bradbury book. I remember stumbling
across it at my grandparents house one summer and absolutely loving it. I
managed to pick up not one, but two copies of the book since then. The
imagery of the book closely describes the feeling I used to get as a young
kid living in Transylvania County [4] (you know, the birthplace of Count
Dracula [5] and all cool Hallowe'enish [6] things).

But the crisp air? The crunch of dry leaves under your feet? The feeling that
summer is gone, winter is coming [7]? Of Christmas carols [8] dominating the
radio for the next two months? Not so much here in South Florida [9]. Bunny
is sitting outside in her shorts, waiting for [DELETED-the little hellions-
DELETED] some kids to show up, yell the obligatory “Trick or treat [10]!”
before loading their outstretched bags with sugar bombs. I'm sitting inside,
where the A/C (air conditioning) is keeping the place cool.

[1] https://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/B00PEPR5P4/conmanlaborat-20
[2] http://www.raybradbury.com/about.html
[3] https://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/B00PEPR5P4/conmanlaborat-20
[4] http://www.transylvaniacounty.org/
[5] http://romaniatourism.com/dracula-legend.html
[6] http://www.history.com/topics/halloween/history-of-halloween
[7] http://gameofthrones.wikia.com/wiki/Winter_is_Coming_(motto)
[8] http://www.carols.org.uk/
[9] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/South_Florida
[10] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trick-or-treating

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