A fox the color of fire appeared on our farm when the frost was on the pumpkin and the leaves had turned a reddish gold. There was a crispness to the air that reminded me of hayrides, apple cider and high school football games. It was also Hallow’s Eve or Devil’s Night as some might say. My granny would have said, had she been alive and not buried up on Rattlesnake Ridge, that there was “no good gonna come of this night.”
(Would one of our members like to add the next paragraph and continue the harrowing Halloween tale? ![[Wink]](wink.gif)