rabbit, rabbit.

happy november, neighbors!

*
you already know i said the magic abracadabras:
'rabbit, rabbit.'
...like out of a hat an' that.
good luckiness,
and lucky goodness,
for a whole other 'nother month.
and that's not even nearly all the freshness
that's getting dispensed all loud and hard up here
it's the spookiest day of the dead
this side of yesterday.
ALL Saint's Day.
secret spirits,
and hyperglycemic candy overload.
or maybe, it would've been,
but the woods has it's hard-styles too.
like NO trickery treaters marching into the haunted woods
for a little bag of goodies.
which really just means more sweetness for me.
and that's all well and good, ninjas-
but if you weren't here for the Samhain hottness yesterday,
then your bellyhole wasn't privvy
to this harvesty, hollowed, hallow's evening hard-skinned gourd,
nor the beginnings of the darker seasons up here
in the epic excellence of the woodsly goodness.
however,
if there's a teleport nearby, you should definitely check this:
boo-ya!
and that boo is for ghosts an' sh!t, ya?
you know what that is?
baked stuffed acorn squash!
yes indeed.
that's wild rice shallot stuffing with sunflower seeds,
drizzled with a crucial compote
of crushed, cooked cranberry sauce.
and seven-spud mashed potatoes.
that's seven lucky kinds of local lumpers,
skins-on homeboy-style masher-uppers,
aaaaaand maple-sweetened cornbread.
all from scratch, friends.
i'd give you the recipe,
but i don't use 'em.
ooooh, sh!t!!
real talk,
F* your A* if you don't think that looks good.
...because you're wrong.
good food is essential to a dinner party.
otherwise,
especially in the absence of booze,
it's just a bunch of hungry people staring at each other.
word up.
and we can't have that kind of weak sauce, can we?
of course not,
what are we?
A*-holes?
c'mon.
cyle and casey came by,
to gnosh up on some celebratory squash and sauce,
and stayed for dessert too.
(apple crisp, with double-oat streusel topping, of course)
and so did our buddy jim.
but that wasn't it, either.
i told you mutha-flippers,
it was a samhain barbarian blaze.
which means that hot fire was compulsory...

flame on, kids.
that's some perfect evening business right there.
and on a crystal-clear night.
stars, smoke, light, dark, woods, leaves...
pretty much everything awesome in one place.

jim even made a mask.
that's hallowe'en spirit, y'all.
you're never too old for THAT.
...and the embers died down,

and the woodstove got hotter,
and the coziness of the fortress got even cozier.
a small cadre of elite enjoyers.
active participants in the really realness.
that's Folk Life;
there hasn't ever been a whole lot of folks who can hang out.
but the ones who can?
yeah.
worthy warrior poetry.
so good.
all treats, all the time.
no tricks.
happy november, my ninjas;
never quiet, never soft.....