The wind outside nested in each tree, prowled the sidewalks in invisible treads like unseen cats.
Tom Skelton shivered. Anyone could see that the wind was a special wind this night, and the darkness took on a special feel because it was All Hallows’ Eve. Everything seemed cut from soft black velvet or gold or orange velvet. Smoke panted up out of a thousand chimneys like the plumes of funeral parades. From kitchen windows drifted two pumpkin smells: gourds being cut, pies being baked.
Ray Bradbury, The Halloween Tree
Everyday Strange 
When I was a kid, I read every Ray Bradbury novel and book of short stories. I still have those old paperbacks (except for the few I loaned out and never got back 😕), although my eyes have a hard time seeing that small print now. And when I am in a secondhand bookstore, I still watch for that elusive treasure of all treasures: the Ray Bradbury hard cover edition. “Smoke panted up out of a thousand chimneys”. Oh, that is glorious 🙏💕💕💕
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