October is breathing its frosty breath down September's collar, the harvest moon looms low and pale in the sky, wind rattles the leaves in the trees. You can almost feel the slow spectral approach of Halloween.

So what are some Haunted Places you have visited? I don't necessarily mean haunted houses, graveyards, etc, but places where the sense of an unseen presence was palpable? Here's an example :

Years ago, I was on a business trip in Southeastern Colorado. It was late in the afternoon when I saw the signs for Mesa Verde, the Anasazi ruins off of Highway 160 between Durango and Cortes. Being in no real hurry, I decided to stop and see them.

The most famous ruin here is Cliff Palace, a large stone structure built just below the rimrock in a hidden canyon. It had been discovered by cowboys one hundred years ago. They were looking for strays in this remote canyon, when the setting sun fell against the cliffs in such a way as to distinguish the structures from the surrounding stone. The size and the inaccessible nature of the ruin was a wonder to them and the many archaeologists and others who have followed.

I had not realized how far into the park you had to drive to get to the Cliff Palace site, and by the time I arrived, the sun was setting and rangers were closing the long snaking trail that led down to it from the parking area above. Determined to view it anyway, I cut through the trees and boulders to intersect the trail further down. It was now utterly quiet in the canyon, and I descended, excited for my first view of the ancient structure. I also made a conscious note of this as a memorable moment, being able to view Cliff Palace alone at nightfall, and I congratulated myself on my initiative.

After several brief views of jutting cap rock below me, the trail made a sudden plunge, then climbed up into the entrance. There before me was a large and wide cave-like pocket in the cliff, filled with well-preserved buildings, a wide terrace, and several kiva openings. Excited, I made a quick tour of the structures, noted the steep plunge from the lip of the terrace, and saw the central kiva had a wooden ladder that led down into it. I quickly climbed down, squatted at the base of the ladder, took a deep breath, and absorbed the growing darkness in the place. As I sat there quietly, I became conscious of a strong sense that I wasn't alone. It became oppressive, and I climbed up out of the kiva.

Now the hollow of Cliff Palace was darkening, the angles and depths fading to black. And then it seemed I heard low murmuring, indistinguishable almost from the swaying of the pinon pines in a night breeze. It occurred to me then that the place was not a deserted ruin for me to casually examine and enjoy. With a chill down my spine, I was now convinced that this place had not just been a sacred place where people lived and died, but that it was still inhabited, perhaps only in the evening when the tourists and rangers at last left it in peace and silence. And there followed the uneasy feeling that what was there, unseen or asleep in the daytime, was gradually coming alive as the canyon sank into darkness.

I won't talk about the other things I heard, the noises that seemed to follow as I made haste back up across the rimrock to my car. I don't know what they were or what made them. But I do know this; that place is haunted.

So toss a branch on the fire and tell us if you've been in such a haunted place.