The wickedly wonderful witch of the Fryingpan
It’s always October. Been that way since the past century. They just show up. Different sizes and shapes of various colors displayed in impossible places; tall corral posts, real cliff edges, way high up in trees and even across the river. They were everywhere. Even hanging from a sky hook.
Not as many today. Numbers reducing in recent years. Probably no crops in the field but she certainly has a garden somewhere. A small garden because of arthritis. The gourds are tiny, pumpkins small and the colors bland. Today they sit on a rock or the U.S. mail; no longer on a dangerous perch. Fact is the Fryingpan Witch is chasing the tall grass of time and is slowly headed to retirement. Sad because the witch has brought and shared immense joy to so many for so long and still does. But now she pretty much just deposits the monthly government check that keeps her warm and takes daily medicine that keeps her happy. Rumor is she’s immersed in goat yoga. To be green, she bought herself a golf cart, even considered purchasing a condo and moving to town. Tell her thanks when you see her next. She’s partial to green chartreuse.
Appreciated it all these years.
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