The Halloween That Almost Wasn't

Every year on Halloween, I:
     *put a large bowl of candy on the fireplace mantel near the front door;
     *put my bat wreath (with a motion sensor that makes its red eyes flash and gives a maniacal laugh when someone approaches) on the door,
     *rake the leaves off the sidewalk that leads to the front stoop,
     *put my Halloween flag on the little garden flag standard by the door,
     *turn on the porch light,
     *plop my festive court jester hat on my head,
then sit down to await the "ghoulies and ghosties and three-leggedy beasties".

And every year on Halloween, I greet the little monsters and gangsters, dinosaurs and superheroes, requiring that they actually say "Trick-or-Treat" before I give out candy, and take a moment to guess what their costumes represent.  It's fun.

The trick-or-treat hours in Plainfield are 5:30 PM to 8:30 PM, and Plainfield parents generally stick to those hours.

Traditionally, the first ones at the door are the very little ones--maybe first-timers--accompanied by Mom or Dad or both--sometimes with older siblings who show them the ropes; sometimes infant siblings who can't even walk yet; and sometimes with the family dog (also in costume).  As it gets dark, the clientele changes to the older ones, with the moms and dads standing on the sidewalk by the street.  Then, too, some arrive by vehicle.  A carload of them may get dropped off at the beginning of a block with the car slowly following close behind to the end of the street.

And every year, when the last of the kidlets go home for the night, I sit down to write a blog entry about all of the fun things I saw or experienced.

THIS year, however, was different.  Why??
As October 31st matured, the temperatures dropped to wind chills in the 20s, the wind whipped into Wind Advisory mode, and what is that I see?  Snow??  Yes, snow!  It snowed all afternoon.  Fortunately, none of it really stuck, but it didn't make for much fun for marauding children to be out at night.

I couldn't get the leaves raked because they were coming down faster than any effort I could make.
I didn't wear my jester hat because I couldn't find it.  (That is to say that it wasn't where it usually is, which means that either my housekeeper or I changed its location when my mind didn't.)

One hour into trick-or-treat time, I hadn't had that first knock on the door.  I stuck my head out to see if there were anyone on the street.  I did notice that there weren't many porch lights on in my block (what a bunch of Scrooges!) and...oh yes...there were some costumed children getting out of a car halfway down.  Finally, a party of four knocked and threatened for a treat.  I told them they were my first trick-or-treaters...that I guessed it was too nasty out for kids.  The mom standing on the sidewalk by the street chuckled and yelled out, "We are dedicated!"
I had another group of two children.
And close to closing time, I had another group of two.  Both were boys, probably of middle school age.  The tallest of the two mentioned that they were probably the last ones still out--that the rest of their group gave up an hour or two ago.  I totally understood why.

Total number of goblins last night:  eight.  Eight!  
Some communities changed their trick-or-treating to today, based on the weather forecast.  Plainfield didn't.  I will keep the still-full bowl of candy by the door just in case.  What remains will go to the Homeless Feeding Mission that my church provides to Indy's homeless, and a couple of local areas that have hungry people.

Happy Nasty Halloween.  On to Thanksgiving!