On morning walks, I’ve been watching a yard down the street where a graveyard is slowly blooming from the lawn. Each day, or so it seems, a new novelty tombstone has sprouted from the grass, part of a growing tableau that also includes plastic skeletons that offer me gruesome smiles.

Halloween decorations this ambitious take time, and my neighbors have been adding to their display when they find spare moments. A few days ago, I spotted an open box in their carport with more grisly supplies for their work in progress. A bony white toe spilled from the edge of the cardboard container, and a slender skeletal finger beckoned from the far corner.

The dome of a skull gleamed from within.

For a man of a certain age, such morbid theater should be sobering, but I chuckle each time I stroll past

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