Halloween month brings out the arson in nature.  Light a trillion candles and you'll know what the thin woods between my house and the lake looks like every evening when Ol’ Sol takes laser shots from the horizon, setting each tiny leaf ablaze – crimson, orange, yellow.  The cold fire of that autumn sunset enchants me.  And even after dark the magic lingers, thick and potent.  Climb aboard my memory and I’ll rewind last night for you…

It begins with canoeing just as the light is mysteriously gathering on the water while all the shoreline is black and the sky is smothering the last faint luminescence on the western horizon.  An hour's paddling carries me into the night and around the lake, then under a columned bridge into an extensive marsh dotted with ponds.  The water here is absolutely still and I glide as if on black glass.  Now and then submerged banks of weeds hiss along the hull or a sunken tree scrapes its nails like a drowning swimmer clawing at my feet.  I navigate to the quietest pool and sit becalmed until the deepening night accepts me.  The stars, the silence, the hidden depths so full of suggestions – it is beautiful beyond words.  But solitary.  An owl wings across my line of sight and is gone, unreal in its quiet passage, as if forgetting to leave sensory information.  Stillness again.  Too much of my life has been spent unshared, I realize.  And suddenly I start whistling "Scarlet Ribbons."  I am a terrible whistler, broken and breathy, but somehow it sounds right in that moment, filled with passion and too much love I couldn't give away.  I paddle home.  At first "home" is represented by the black water ahead, then the bridge, then the greater lake, then the dark shoreline, then the beacon of the Great Pumpkin glowing orange on a neighbor’s deck.  I drag the canoe onto the bank, carry it up the hill, hang it in the garage, enter the darkened house, and stare at the lake through my window as if it is a magical picture frame from which I have just emerged.  Sorry you weren't there to experience it full senses five, but maybe you have your own magical picture frame.  If you do, think “Alice in the Looking Glass.”  You know there’s magic inside you.  Step into your reflections and find it.

All right, a message to those of you with secret decoder rings:  I love the fact that you have never given up on the White Feather mentioned here from time to time over the past several years.  Which is an example in kind, because that’s what the White Feather is: Never Giving Up.  An ideal.  Perfection.  Something uncompromised.  It cannot die (my White Feather is definitely from a phoenix).  Keeping perfection alive requires fine tuning with many ingenious twists and a romantic view of the world.  I believe in second chance dances, but not in second rate fates.  Which is to say, I never give up on core ideals.  Which is to say, there are some things you cannot compromise without ceasing to be yourself.  For most people the effort of keeping faith with that kind of idealism would just not be worth the reward.  But it is for me.  So here in a word is the White Feather update you are emailing about:  Yes…what’s left of it is still there as of September 30, 2010.

I’m offering up a Halloween column on StorytellersUnplugged this month about a ghostly little boy who brought meaning into my life one afternoon.  Here's the link: [ http://storytellersunplugged.com/thomassullivan/2010/10/15/thomas-sullivan-walking-through-ghosts/    ]  The sax photo below is from where the encounter took place and was snapped by professional photographer Karie Lake who stopped there recently.  Another photo is of Doc Foto hisself and moi.  Who’d a thunk we would both have on white hats? (But mine is bigger and size matters.)  Doc Foto and his wife Karen drove all the way to Minnesota to visit me last month, and we had a hoot of a time with much music (jamming on guitar/sax), excruciating laughter and solid gold conversation.  It also gave me a chance to get even with the evil doctor for conning me into buying 7 harmonicas (they made a great planter for the visit), and a book on yoga (…tp for the guest bathroom).  And I'm sorry I drove off naked (fake-out) to find you guys when you went for coffee.  The remaining four photos below are all fall color shots from canoeing or hiking.

Will try to put up new sax video on my YouTube link [ http://www.youtube.com/user/Sullysax1#p/a/u/1/d49rY3FQ5ic  ] but it’s hard to record on account of I’m remodeling the room where everything is set up.  Hit “subscribe” on my YouTube site if you want to be notified when a new video goes up.  Meanwhile, wishing you more treat than trick this Halloween.  Pick a great costume – the real you -- and wear it all year!

Thomas “Sully” Sullivan

http://www.thomassullivanauthor.com 
http://twitter.com/thomassullivan       

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“Not being loved perfectly doesn't mean YOU can't love perfectly. If I couldn't do that, I wouldn't love at all.”
“I luv a second chance dance, but never a second rate fate.”