Anticipating Hallows Eve

Living between sea and waterways, I love this time of year. Schools have celebrated harvest, clocks have gone back, and nights are drawing in with frost and spooky tales.

Along the coast and above the marshlands, the sky is haunted, filled with the cries of wintering birds. In the woods, frills of fungus cling to trees and sprout from moist earth; the other week, we found clusters of mushrooms on the moorings. Squirrels scuff up drifts of vibrant leaves, collecting winter provisions: chunks of fallen apples, acorns and vibrant berries.

In the fields, the only bright colour is the last of the rapeseed crop, acid yellow against grey sky. The rest of this flat landscape is brittle with stalks and crumbed soil. This is the barrenness of harvest or pestilence, from which I expect ghosts to rise, tangled with sea frets and twilight mists.

Kim M. Russell, 28th October 2019

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My response to dVerse Poets Pub Prosery 5: All Hallows

It’s Prosery Monday and Björn has chosen two lines written together from Louise Glück’s poem ‘All Hallows’: “This is the barrenness of harvest or pestilence” – a great choice for the time of year – to be incorporated into 144 words of prose.

26 thoughts on “Anticipating Hallows Eve

    1. Thanks Bjorn. Ghosts are desirable to me. I’ve seen a few but would like to see more – they fascinate me. The colourful splash of the rapeseed is exactly what made an impression on me as I drove to our local market town last week. Everything was grey and brown, and the suddenly there is was, smiling at me!

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  1. I love the color of the rapeseed bursting forth from the mists. I sometimes watch the mists rising among the trees on our acerage and give a shiver. You have painted quite a picture here. We have not yet changed DST yet over here.

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    1. Thanks Toni. I realised your clocks hadn’t changed when I went to post at the normal tiem and found lots of comments. I must remember to check the prompt is live at seven in the evening until further notice!

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  2. I agree, your last line is killer. You had me at /Squirrels scuff up drifts of vibrant leaves/. You make your home area sound intriguing, wonderful; I love being near the sea.

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  3. You set the tone for what’s coming with the ending line: This is the barrenness of harvest or pestilence, from which I expect ghosts to rise, tangled with sea frets and twilight mists. Lovely write Kim.

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  4. “Sea frets and twilight mists”. I love the picture that conjures.(though I admit I had to research exactly what a sea fret is, being a landlubber!) We do have the twilights when mists rise over the fields, however.

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    1. Thank you, Bev. We have the most amazing sea frets that suddenly roll in from the sea like crowds of ghosts. One moment it’s clear and the next you’re surrounded by fog!

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