A serene Halloween

A sailboat ghosted its way in light air toward Shaw Island as cyclists and hikers converged on Lopez Island’s Fisherman Bay Spit on this mild and sunny Halloween Saturday. In the distance: Orcas Island’s Turtleback Mountain.

THE WORLD IS SCARY ENOUGH LATELY, with the resurging pandemic, and Election Day less than 72 hours away, so Barbara and I didn’t mind a day of sunshine and serenity this Halloween.

We journeyed to Lopez Island for one of our favorite obligations: recycling and trash disposal. That might sound odd, but it’s an every-fortnight necessity that gets us off our little rock and into a pleasant world of people who wave when you drive by. (We wave on Center Island, too. But Lopez has a lot more folks to do the waving. It’s the Bright Lights.)

That done, we had a picnic lunch at our favorite bench overlooking the Fisherman Bay spit. Sweaters were in order, but the day was mild for the end of October. The pink Nootka roses I’ve enjoyed there in June were now ruby-colored rose hips on twigs brittled and browned by recent brisk nights.

A squirrel already ate part of the eye from my jack o’lantern. That makes it even spookier, don’t you think?

Yesterday I carved a jack o’lantern and tonight we’ve lit a candle in it on the deck outside our window. A cheery fire crackles in the woodstove and Barbara is puttering in the kitchen, preparing colcannon, a traditional Irish dish for Halloween. In place of potatoes for me, she’s using mashed rutabaga in deference to my recently diagnosed diabetes. (I exercise, I eat a mostly vegan diet, I’m skinnier than I’ve been in years, and still it happened.) Upon our return from Lopez this afternoon, we stopped at the mail shack and found a Halloween gift package from daughter Lillian, with a homemade card and several packets of sugar-free candies. A thoughtful girl.

With dinner, we’ll enjoy our annual screening of “Arsenic and Old Lace.” Later, we’ll look outside for the full moon (a blue moon, in fact) while keeping a wary eye out for werewolves, of course.

Years ago, I drove a sporty red two-seater and we spent our time in the fast lane. These days I drive a 15-year-old pickup and a hand-decorated golf cart called Mr. Toad. Life in the slow lane? I’m OK with that.

Happy Halloween. If you haven’t already, be sure to vote. (Not for the werewolf.)