I love October...the crunchy leaves, the chilly nights...and the drama and imagination of Halloween. I was one of those little kids that lived in dress-up clothes, tripped around in her mothers heels and should have won an Oscar at some point in Kindergarten for my stellar performance of Little Red Riding Hood.
I am also an American Celt...no I have no real language and the major customs but there were a bunch of Celts in my family tree. Despite the lack of language and a loss of many customs...the blood runs strong in other ways. The poet is alive, the warrior, the dreamer, and...face it... the schemer. There is also the mystic who can step out into a night and almost see the shimmering layers, the curtains from other realities, as they ripple in some cosmic breeze.
Halloween began as such in a long distant time. It was a night when someone would leave the door between this world and the next ajar. The recently dead, and perhaps other things, could come to call. Saucers of milk would be left out as an offering to keep the visit...friendly.
So enjoy the sigh of the wind and the crackle of leaves as you walk. Set out your autumn decorations and enjoy the "October country" as Bradberry called it.....but leave some milk out on the night. Just in case.