Popcorn Balls

October gets me thinking about 1960s Halloween in Home Acres. There was no better or spookier a place for trick or treating as a kid. The winding dark streets, sloping hills and hidden ravines lit only by the warm harvest moon. Our neighbor Pete Cronk, concealed inside a leafy tree, on stilts, jumps out as we approach his door. We scream with fear and delight. There’s a rumour of popcorn balls available at a house way up on Ternez Drive. We trudge up the steep street, fueled by anticipation of that special, gooey prize.