Dear Me,
Had to get up before the first bird to make an admission which at first may seem to be insensibly intense nonsense, but for me it was nearly a religious experience.
Anyway, how does one explain a miracle? You’re walking down the street with a windowshade drawn over your senses. Suddenly it pops up and all your favorite Disney Characters are frolicking alive in front of you. Then you take your next step and you’re in it, having a ball riding in Cinderella’s pumpkin before magic makes it her carriage. It’s like this when you create something in your mind - just make it out of the blue - then later...well, it goes this way.
I think of late September to midnight October 30th as Halloween Eve. Gives me enough time to converse with the universe of a perfect pumpkin-colored pumpkin who wears an outstanding fat storybook stem on his head and looks forward to waving his flame-flushed face from the picture window on his main night.
But this year an amused muse, who of course is me, in tune with who or whatever that pops concepts into words (also me) played a trick.
Three weeks ago in late September when I wrote in the “Halloween” letter “...on a windy night full with albino pumpkin moon,” it seemed better than “cheesecake moon” which has nothing to do with Halloween and everything to do with New York. And I’ve never seen a pumpkin-colored moon anyway. So, “albino” fit the slot logically enough, even though I’ve never seen an albino pumpkin either. But so what?
On this warm mid-October day, I was walking my sweet dog Daisy down one of my favorite islands in L.A., quaint Larchmont Village. I noticed I was looking without using my eyeballs, like putting out your third eye’s antenna while walking through the dark, when -- who else could it have been? -- the mischievous muse lassoed my attention and riveted it to the window of the Larchmont Green Grocer.
At that moment I knew completely what awestruck was. Then a one-second doubt that it was really real flashed and as quickly fizzled when I looked more closely in their window
I rushed Daisy the few feet back to the car to wait for me, ran back to the store then slowly and thoroughly looked through the bins for more of them. None were there. I stood a forever minute waiting for one of the two partners to be free. Then, walking slowly with partner Karen to the window I asked in a low voice, rubberbanded to hide my excitement, if that was an albino pumpkin. I expected anything for an answer. She said a friendly, “Yes, it is.” “Is it for decoration or for sale?” I asked, thinking how could somethig that hadn’t existed a few minutes before be for sale. It was probably the only one in the world anyway. She smiled the answer, “Oh, it’s for sale.”
That popped the cork off my consrvatism and I mentioned writing about an albino pumpkin moon, not knowing such a critter existed, then asked how to preserve him. She said that the colorful decorative gourds are dried and preserved with varnish and that may work. Then she turned to her partner Peggy and said, “We’ll order more of these” and Peggy said, “Lots more.”
I was in awe all the way home and couldn’t wait to tell this on paper. I later tuned in to my albino friend and got this:
Down the pumpkin vine the word goes that all the pumpkins were calmly growing in the patch and when they were almost at the peak of their prime, right before harvest time and when it was least expected, the Great North Wind whipped in. Dark clouds sped across the full moon and fast as a 1920’s moving picture show flickered bright moonbeams all across the patch.
Then with thundering speed a great gust yanked the scarecrow off his pole, swirled him in swoops and circles above the patch. The owl on his shoulder hung on by his toenails, franticaly flapped his wings for balance and hooted who’s a lot. A terrifying show.
The Great Wise Pumpkin of the patch, knowing how fickle the Great North Wind was, and how he used his force without much smarts, making mostly mincemeat of whatever was in his path, sent word down the vine:
“North Wind never blows as high as the moon. Quick! Disguise your skins to make him think you’re the moon.”
So the Great North Wind, confused by seeing so many moons, thought he was too high and took a dive into the crust of the Earth.
The pumpkins continue to wear their new moonskins to keep peace wherever they end up.
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