Well, the creaking door of the crypt has closed on another Halloween.
But don’t get too comfortable. Other frights lie in wait around many a corner. Some are already here, trying to blend in with October’s ghouls.
I try to look away when I see them, but before long, they’ll be everywhere.

I’m talking about Christmas decorations.

I met a woman this week who said she was decking her halls tomorrow.
Yikes! The witches and vampires are barely cold in their storage boxes. (OK, maybe vampires are always cold.)

Come December, all the lights and wreaths and glowing trees will be lovely. I just flinch a bit when I see them before we even change the clocks.
I understand that decorating for the holidays can be quite a project, and malls, stores and busy people may need more time to tackle it. And for some people, Christmas is their favorite holiday.
But, October? Really?

I prefer to take my holidays one at a time, and give them a bit of breathing space on either side. My ghosts will wave in the breeze for another week or so. I’ll trot out the turkeys later in November. And down the line I'll think about Christmas.

Surely before Dec. 25.

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The festive bones below hung out at the Franklin Institute gift shop in December. I guess blending holidays isn't all bad.

Happy ... Chrisween? 

Today I thought I’d let my pictures do the talking.

Using the traditional calculations, they’re worth about 5,000 words.

That makes my job easy.

Thank you, Strathmere, N.J., for countless momentary joys.

The view from my chair, September.

Storm brewing
(Seen from the shelter of an Ocean City boardwalk coffee shop.)

Sharing the last day of summer with the seagulls.

Brilliantly lit beach walk
And no, this was not taken in black and white.

Our last Strathmere sunset, at least for this year.

Pretty in pink

Summer has put the kettle on … high. 

Stay hydrated, my friends.

That won’t be hard if you follow a rule my husband and I instituted early on in our marriage.

Thou shalt stop at lemonade stands.

OK, maybe it’s not a commandment, but it is a guiding principle. I’d say we have a pretty good track record.

I’m not sure when we first started stopping. (Now, that’s a phrase my brain enjoyed … “started stopping.”) Back in the early ’90s, we pulled over somewhere in the middle of Wisconsin, en route to a family wedding in Fargo, N.D. Two little kids manned the stand — on a very unbusy side road — and they happily poured cups for my husband, me and our own two little kids. Score one for Midwest-East Coast relations.

In every type of business, there are lambs, and there are sharks. 

The lambs splash out a 16-ounce cup and shyly ask for a quarter. (I’ve done the math. Clearly these kids need a union.) 

But that’s where another rule kicks in: Leave a good tip.

Sadly, even in the lemonade business, the buyer must beware.

A few weeks ago I spotted the sure signs of a lemonade stand — lawn chairs and a small table at the end of a driveway.  Two kids were heading back to their posts as I pulled over.

I crossed the street, taking out a dollar bill. Seeing no sign, I asked how much for a cup.

The boy paused, glancing down at the bill in my hand. He looked up and said:

“A dollar.”

Hmm, I thought, as I handed it over. Sharks start young.

So, I bought this bed for our dog.
Enough said.

Pen and ink? Nope: Water, wind and sand.

 One more for the “it pays to look down” files.

On a lovely May day, I was lucky enough to walk along the beach in Ocean City, NJ.

The sea foamed and flowed, the sandpipers sped along, tiny legs a blur, and I strolled. No place I had to be; no to-do I had to do. A gift of a day.

I watched the water hard at work, pushing and pulling sand along the shore. The wind joined in, and what they left behind literally stopped me in my tracks.

Art was at my feet. Art that would be swept away with the next high tide — and replaced by new creations.

Mother Nature’s got talent.

Another sand painting.

Still life with sidewalk

I’ve been nursing a sore heel lately, and many of my walks have become drives.

Beautiful weather and the lack of a car gave me extra incentive to head out on foot today, and I realized what I’ve been missing.

The feel of the sun, the smell of fresh-mown grass, the beauty of blossoms casually left behind by spring breezes, the gift of taking my time.

And, my heel didn’t complain … much.

One step at a time.

For Tolkien fans, a gathering of Ents.

Despite the snowy forecast, today is the final day of winter.