There is little that compares to the crisp light of the LED. When I was young, engaged in the business of untangling Christmas lights, I would usually be struck by the concentration of the lamps as they were bunched together, smelling of the attic and ceremoniously plugged into the outlet to test their integrity. It was a glowing heart. A handheld ember. This droplet I shaped from the twigs of a persistently nasty batch of Privet that grows in the back. The branches are green and easily woven through one another. You are looking at nothing more than branches and a string of lights. I am proud of it.
I have been collecting these as I run across them. As far as I am concerned, the stranger the fruit, the more Halloween. I will be carving them.
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