Musing on Spooky Fun

Musing on Spooky Fun

There’s a family in our neighborhood who invests a lot of time and energy and artistry in decorating their property for Halloween. When we had very small children in our home, the neighbors’ house became known as “The Spooky House”. It wasn’t frightening . . . just spooky.

For the past few weeks, we’ve been watching as they build the set for this year’s display. Apparently, it’s going to feature a large wheeled carriage. I think I may be enjoying the entertainment of the work in progress even more than I’ll enjoy the completed project. It’s fun to imagine what’s to come, what it will look and sound and feel like a month from now.

Recently I stopped to watch as a detail was applied, and I said, “Maybe you should put out a tip jar. I feel like we ought to pay for the show.” The neighbor replied, “Oh, no. If we got money, it would be a job. We just do it because we love it. But I’m glad it brings you joy, too.”

This season also evokes a memory of a years-ago conversation in the car, where I heard from the backseat: “Mom, are ghosts real?” And then immediately, a derisive response from the sibling: “No. Ghosts are not real!”

“Huh,” I said. “I’m not so sure about that. I’ve never seen a ghost myself, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they’re not real. There’s a lot about the world that I don’t know or understand.”

I prefer to know and understand things. But sometimes life invites us just to marvel at its mysteries, to experience joy and pleasure for their own sake, to wonder about what’s yet to come.

I hope you, too, will experience some spooky fun this season, and maybe a bit of mystery and wonder. If that’s your pleasure, of course.

Love,
Paige

 

3 Comments

  1. Carol Zika

    My ghost experience took place at Ghost Ranch in ABIQUIU, New Mexico, where I went many summers to teach drawing and painting workshops. I was staying in a guestroom in the oldest building on the ranch, Ghost House. I was minding my own business one day when the closet door, which was standing open, slammed shut. I looked to see if the window was open, and the answer was no. It wasn’t scary, just a message from – what else – an invisible presence. Mystery and wonder.

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