Jacks, Halloween, Meadowwood

Today, at dusk, the ancient Celtic harvest celebration known as Samhain, a.k.a. Halloween, reaches its peak, as the divide between the spirit world and the physical one gets exceedingly thin. I'm not sure I'm quite up for communing with the dead, but I did take my granddaughter and grandson into the dark to trick or treat. There was a nice chill in the late October air, but it was not too cool to stop at least a few True Katydids from calling half-heartedly. Many of the homes we visited featured ornately carved Jack-o'-Lanterns—illuminati that, according to legend, were carried through eternity to light the way of an Irish thief named "Stingy Jack," who in life once managed to trick the Devil. Of course, Satan held a grudge, and when Jack died, not only was the thief denied entry to Heaven, he was also kept out of Hell. And so Jack had to wander the netherworld forever, his way lit by a candle inserted into a hollowed-out turnip, then the vegetable of choice for such Samhain nightlights. Artfully carved pumpkins now do the job of lighting our way to the goodies.