I'm so thankful that the first of November is one of those smoggy-foggy days ripe for the imagination, being thick with memories of Niagra in early June, Arlington Park-in-the-dark, or of Cohen brothers' movies I've visited over and over.
Autumn is easily my favorite season in Arkansas for its tendency to draw out that perfect mood that proves fertile for songwriting and storytelling. The frosts and mists and foliage aflame are like God's little compensations for the daylight hours growing shorter. I'm thankful for such beauty that forces me to stand still in awe of such revelation.
On the lighter side, Halloween in a struggling milltown is fabulous. Feeling a bit under the weather, I opted to stay in and get rid of all the extra calories in the house by handing them out to younger hips who could afford them. And oh, I was richly rewarded! I was treated to a parade of pirates, princesses, razorbacks, angels, demons, baby demons and two precocious young souls dressed as Axl Rose and Slash. The only hand that could've beaten that for my money would've been Mic Jagger and Keith Richards. But who sells candy cigarettes anymore, eh?
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