Signs of the Season

Our autumn splendor ended with a crash and a flash this week and we've all been racing around securing tarps over our firewood, pulling flying plastic pots and saucers out of the bushes and toying with the idea of turning on a little heat, at least in the morning.
The huge leaves of the black fig tree are now a crinkly brown carpet and the pink and white flowering hibiscus are nude except for the seed pods on the tips of the branches. No one is silly enough to apply a rake, however; there's time enough for that when this storm front passes and the ground dries out a bit. Maybe in February.
This has been a swell Halloween week with lots of neighborly get-togethers and costume parties in the lower schools. Today I'm making batches of popcorn balls for the Izzalini kids. They don't know from Trick or Treating, but they love the pumpkins and witches and sticky treats. We herd them into the back room of the bar and let 'em loose.
Saturday is Tutti Santi, of course, and the stores are overflowing with colorful chrysanthemums, the official flower of mourning in these parts. Every time there's a let-up in the rain, families dash to the cemetery to drop off pots of mums and pay their respects. I'd love to display some inside the house, but that's a cultural no-no. Very bad luck, too.