Orange and Black

winter pumpkins

2012-01-08T20:53:00.001-04:00

After a stretch of snow and frigid temperatures, today felt distinctly like springtime. And knowing that the feeling won't last, I took the opportunity to go for a long afternoon walk. Where I encountered a sight that that made the mild day feel even warmer.

There's nothing that brings joy to a winter day like a neighbour's pumpkin banner. Still flying proudly in January. Although I'm not sure how the rabbits fit in.

new year's day

2012-01-01T19:49:00.000-04:00

It's become a tradition on this day in recent years to go for a long afternoon walk with my camera. And think about resolutions. Or the lack thereof.

I have long since given up on the more traditional resolutions, but in past years, I have attempted some Halloween resolutions. A collection of my haunted hopes and dreams. But sadly, these have, more often than not, turned out much the same as my long-forgotten standard resolutions. Badly. So this year, I have decided that my Halloween resolutions will be . . . non-existent. No plans. No good intentions. No goals whatsoever. It might be interesting to see how this turns out. Happy 2012.

an explosion of Christmas

2011-12-26T08:50:00.001-04:00

Few sights are more terrifying than a Christmas display packed to the point of bursting.

Merry Christmas!

Thirteen Days of Creepmas: Day 13

2011-12-13T15:44:00.000-04:00

And finally, we reach the end of our Creepmas celebrations. The gifts have been purchased. The letters sent. The parties attended. All that remains to to see what Santa leaves under the tree. Looks like he was very generous here. When you find yourself sitting between an evil rabbit and two terrifying dolls, a Merry Creepmas is practically guaranteed.

Thirteen Days of Creepmas: Day 12

2011-12-12T08:00:00.000-04:00

As well-organized as he is, sometimes Santa arrives ahead of schedule. But if he happens to stop by before everyone is asleep, it's not a problem. He's a patient man. He'll hang around nearby for a while. Maybe enjoy a smoke or two.

Source

Thirteen Days of Creepmas: Day 11

2011-12-11T08:03:00.000-04:00

So . . . the letters have been posted. The photographs have been taken. The parades have been attended. The parties have been held. The cards have been sent. All that remains is to drift off to sleep and wait for the arrival of the jolly old man bearing gifts. But you have to be asleep. And if you're not asleep, it's wise to pretend. He'll be checking.

Source

Thirteen Days of Creepmas: Day 10

2011-12-10T10:30:00.000-04:00

Still haven't sent that letter to Santa? Can't decide on the perfect gift? Not sure exactly what you might like to find under the tree on Christmas morning? Not to worry. There's still time. And perhaps a day of window shopping will give you some ideas.

Source

Thirteen Days of Creepmas: Day 9

2011-12-09T21:19:00.000-04:00

With all the attention given to Christmas purchasing at this time of year, it's important to step back for a moment and focus on what is truly meaningful. Spending time with the people in your life. Friends. Relatives. Acquaintances. Getting together to share a meal. To enjoy the holiday atmosphere. And perhaps to cover a wagon wheel with hay and set it on fire. The true spirit of the season.

Source

Thirteen Days of Creepmas: Day 8

2011-12-08T09:30:00.000-04:00

As Christmas quickly approaches, remember: if sending cards to friends and relatives far away, it's important to get those into the mail quite soon. You'll want to ensure that your message of warmth and goodwill reaches them before Christmas Day.

Thirteen Days of Creepmas: Day 7

2011-12-07T09:30:00.000-04:00

Despite the myriad of options out there, it can be difficult to choose the perfect Christmas gift for someone on your list. But it's heart-warming to know that Santa Claus is there for you. Always willing to offer assistance with your gift-giving dilemma. Always providing such wonderful suggestions. As the great man says, "The spirit of Christmas-giving is abroad in the land." And you're right, Santa. Nothing better expresses that spirit than a pack of smokes. The perfect gift.

Thirteen Days of Creepmas: Day 6

2011-12-06T10:00:00.000-04:00

It sometimes seems incredible that Santa Claus can successfully make that one-night journey with a world's supply of gifts piled into a sleigh. What if someone requests an over-sized item that simply won't fit? No worries. Santa always has a back-up plan. And a team of cleverly disguised helpers.

Source

Thirteen Days of Creepmas: Day 5

2011-12-05T05:53:00.001-04:00

When I was a child, the prevailing wisdom stated that Santa would bring you toys if you were good and a lump of coal if you were bad. But apparently there are parts of the world that take Christmastime punishment for bad behaviour to a whole new level. So today we salute Krampus. The hero of Creepmas.

Source

Thirteen Days of Creepmas: Day 4

2011-12-04T08:13:00.000-04:00

In all the excitement over Santa, don't forget to begin your own Christmas shopping. You'll need time to decide on the perfect gift, and leaving it until the last minute could leave everyone disappointed on Christmas Day. Like the ad says: "Beat the Christmas holiday rush."

Thirteen Days of Creepmas: Day 3

2011-12-03T16:40:00.000-04:00

While you're attending the parades and having photographs taken with Santa Claus, remember: it's wise to send your letter to Santa as early as possible in the season. Before he becomes too busy in his workshop.

Source

Thirteen Days of Creepmas: Day 2

2011-12-02T10:30:00.000-04:00

A much-loved and eagerly anticipated Christmas tradition is the annual photo with Santa. Plan to go early. Line-ups can be long. And why not? Everyone wants a photograph with the jolly old man.

Source

Thirteen Days of Creepmas: Day 1

2011-12-01T09:00:00.000-04:00

Where has the time gone? It seems like just yesterday, the jack-o-lanterns were rotting on the doorstep, and suddenly, here it is. The first day of December. Time to begin preparing for the second-most-wonderful-time-of-the-year: Christmas.

Of course, Christmas preparations have been underway for weeks already. As I discovered to my horror when I stopped by Canadian Tire back in mid-October for a few last minute Halloween items and had to squeeze past store staff unpacking boxes of Christmas ornaments and artificial trees as the melodious strains of White Christmas emanated from the store's audio system. But no matter. With December comes the true Christmas deluge. All Christmas. All the time. And this blog is no exception.

Typically, I like to begin the season by attending a Christmas parade. There's no better way to begin the festivities and embrace the spirit of the season.

Merry Creepmas to all!

Source

mcnab's

2011-11-28T23:51:00.000-04:00

There is no better place for a blustery late-autumn day trip than a tiny island in the harbour of a small city on the North Atlantic coast. And so it was that I took what is quickly becoming an annual fall excursion to McNab's Island. In the mouth of Halifax harbour.

What was once a thriving community and recreational weekend destination for residents of the nearby city, McNab's is now largely deserted and used only sporadically by individuals or small groups of hikers. It gives the island a desolate, lost-in-time quality, as the decaying remains of its former lives (military base, amusement park, summer retreat, year-round community, quarantine station, and jail) contribute to its atmosphere.

This year marked the opening of the newly-restored Fort McNab, on the island's southern tip. As with so much of the island, the land used for the fort was once part of the McNab family homestead. And it includes the old family graveyard. So rather than disturb the graves when the fort was constructed, they appear to have simply built the fort around it. And there it remains.

Oddly enough, while most of the grave markers seem to have received upgrades from the originals, one small wooden cross remains behind all the others. No one seems to know why, but there must be a story here. And likely a resentful ghost.

first snow

2011-11-24T13:11:00.000-04:00

Yesterday saw the first snowfall of the season. And it was a significant one.

From their off-season home at the side of the house, the jack-o-lantern stumps are handling the sudden winter weather quite well, albeit with only one eye exposed.

costume-less

2011-11-23T12:21:00.000-04:00

So in the aftermath of Halloween, another Hal-Con has come and gone. Initially, I was thrilled that they had to move the date of the second annual sci-fi/comic convention in my city to November of this year. Last year, it had fallen on the same weekend as Halloween. It almost killed me. Afterwards, I recall thinking, "In 2011, at least it will be in November. Nearly two full weeks following Halloween to put the finishing touches on my costumes." As it turned out, the exact same lack-of-time-combined-with-poor-organizational-skills that resulted in a scaled down Halloween display this year also resulted in no new costume for Hal-Con. With the exception of the masquerade dance, to which we wore last year's costumes, I attended Hal-Con 2011 dressed as . . . myself: victim of poor planning. It was still a hugely fun weekend, however. Especially when I got to encounter creatures like this.

And there's always 2012 to look forward to. Which sees it move back to October. Maybe I'll start working on my costume right now. Maybe . . .

candy corn in space

2011-11-18T17:01:00.001-04:00

Finally. It's been a long time coming, but it appears that the lowly candy corn may actually be getting some respect. Especially since the tri-coloured Halloween candy has played an integral role in scientific research on the international space station.

Maybe our intrepid researcher was motivated by a desire to win new admirers for the much-maligned candy. Or maybe he just wanted an excuse to bring extra snacks along on the trip. Oddly, the remaining candy corn had vanished before additional experiments could be conducted.

the spoils of November

2011-11-17T17:00:00.001-04:00

So on Halloween night, my son was on the front porch helping to distribute treats. And at one point, we ran out of treat bags and had to turn to our back-up supply of miniature chocolate bars. A steady stream of trick-or-treaters approached, and he knew he had to act quickly to open the sealed plastic bag of chocolate bars. Alas, he acted a little too quickly. And dozens of Mars bars exploded from the torn bag and scattered around the front step.

Surprisingly, approaching trick-or-treaters did not descend upon us in a sugar-induced frenzy, scooping up all the chocolate bars they could find. Instead, the vampires and zombies and princesses waited patiently while we gathered them up. And we were sure we had them all. Until weeks later. When the removal of fallen leaves and the trimming of shrubs revealed a surprise. A beautifully-preserved, chocolate-y surprise.

Suddenly, I'm motivated to do more yard work.

Creepmas is coming . . .

2011-11-14T20:30:00.000-04:00

This time of year always signals a lull in my blogging activity. After the frenzy of October and the decaying pumpkin photos of early November, there doesn't seem to be much left to say. So I tend to be rather quiet while catching up on neglected Countdown to Halloween posts and looking at other people's Halloween photos.

But that may soon change. Now that Creepmas is coming.

"A reaction to the continuing incursion of Christmas into Autumn and Halloween,CREEPMAS is a good-natured chance for Halloween lovers to exact revenge by bringing some spooky good cheer into the holidays or, more appropriately, the Hallowdays."

What's not to love? This may be just the motivation I need.

boxing day

2011-11-10T23:50:00.000-04:00

Early November is a quiet, anti-climactic time of year. And it would be absolutely depressing, if not for one thing: Halloween clearance sales. The Boxing Day of the Halloween season. On a somewhat smaller scale. Nevertheless, it's the time of year when I venture out into the stores to seek out some coveted items that were not in the Halloween budget this year. Or that simply carried a price tag with which I did not agree.

This year's after-Halloween sales, however, were a disappointment. Many stores had scaled back on their Halloween merchandise throughout the season. And then hurriedly packed it away as the sun rose on November 1st. The nicer merchandise, that is. There were still plenty of cheap wigs and fake cobwebs to be found at deep discounts. But I did pick up a couple of things that I've had my eye on since September.

First, a couple of ceramic wine glasses. That have already been used more times than I'd like to admit. And second, one of those battery-operated, motion-sensored, self-propelled brooms that seemed to be everywhere a year or two ago. At 50% off, I couldn't resist. Although its cheap, plastic appearance will require some modification before I reveal it to the world. And then of course, there was chocolate. Wonderful bargains on miniature chocolate bars, which I had planned to use in the "leftover-Halloween-candy" dessert recipes I'd been saving. Sadly they didn't last long enough. I'll need to find a better hiding place.

And now, time for another glass of wine.

last days of the jack-o-lanterns

2011-11-08T06:23:00.001-04:00

After a few days of frosty temperatures following Halloween, the weather suddenly turned almost summerlike. Less than ideal jack-o-lantern preservation weather.

I may have to part with them soon. I don't think I can bear to just sit by and watch them deteriorate.

Halloween Night

2011-11-02T07:44:00.000-03:00

The Great Pumpkin would have been pleased.

Sunday's rain and wind subsided and left in their wake a day of clear skies, crisp late-October air, and just enough of a breeze to rustle the leaves on the ground. Perfection. More than 150 enthusiastic trick-or-treaters. And enough candy left over for a late-evening (and next day's breakfast) snack.

Sincerity as far as the eye could see.

Happy Halloween!

2011-10-31T10:25:00.000-03:00

It's a matter of priorities.

Monday is the busiest day of my work week. Ten hours of work and a return home at 6 p.m. is not uncommon. It is a day packed with Halloween-destroying potential. So I did the only sensible thing. I took the day off.

Instead of getting up at 5:30 a.m. and rushing home exhausted at 6:00 p.m., I have given myself the Halloween gift of time. Time to assemble 160 treat bags for the evening's visitors. Time to enjoy a cup of pumpkin spice coffee. And perhaps a last pumpkin spice latte. Time to watch one more classic horror movie. Time to catch up on the reading of the Halloween Countdown blog posts on which I have fallen far, far behind. Time to venture out into the yard to repair the damage done by yesterday's storm. Time to truly enjoy the day. I think I may give myself this gift every year.

Happy Halloween!

the final four

2011-10-30T08:30:00.000-03:00

My four remaining pumpkins got their faces yesterday and are sitting comfortably on the front porch, watching the wind and rain. They don't appear to have noticed the absence the the fifth. Whom I traded for a plate of nachos earlier this weekend.

This year marked the end of an era of family pumpkin carving. Only my daughter and I were involved. The others expressed sentiments ranging from indifference to disinterest. I sincerely hope the Great Pumpkin wasn't watching.

the first of five

2011-10-29T08:39:00.002-03:00

The first of the crop of pumpkins from my front yard garden was carved last night. Four more will follow. This guy was first for a particular reason. I had discovered that my local pub was encouraging people to donate jack-o-lanterns to its Halloween display in preparation for Halloween weekend. So eager were they to gather a large collection of pumpkins that they were offering two drinks and an appetizer to each person who contributed a jack-o-lantern.

That's all I needed to hear. As much as I love my little pumpkin crop, I love Finbars' nachos more. He looked happy in his new home.

the rise of the pumpkin people

2011-10-28T19:52:00.002-03:00

There is a small town about an hour's drive away that, for many years now, has devoted the month of October to its "Pumpkin People". Townspeople were encouraged to create pumpkin-headed scarecrows in their front yards and more elaborate displays were created in public spaces. In the beginning, it was an impressive sight to behold. Each year was organized around a theme. From Lord of the Rings. To an all-pumpkin orchestra. People drove from miles around to see the pumpkin people. But after several years, it seemed that the dreaded "Pumpkin People Fatigue" had begun to set in. Fewer townspeople participated. The numbers of pumpkin people dwindled. And the sight of them was less impressive with each passing year. Yes, it appeared that the sun was setting on the era of the Pumpkin People.

But then, something astonishing happened.

As the once-proud Pumpkin People cried out in their collective agony, their voice was heard. And there was a response. A rallying cry of support. And that rallying cry clearly came from my neighbours. Because suddenly, pumpkin people fever has taken hold on the streets that surround me. Suddenly, pumpkin people are springing up where none had existed before. Suddenly, my neighbours have taken up the pumpkin people torch and are holding it high.

There are pumpkin witches.

And pumpkin teenagers.

Pumpkin farmers.

And pumpkin vampires.

And even pumpkin smurfs.

Far from being at death's door, it seems the pumpkin people are alive and well. And living in my neighbourhood.

Dracula by the sea

2011-10-27T23:30:00.000-03:00

I began the month of October with a classic monster. It seemed only appropriate to end it with one.

And so it was that I spent a suddenly wintry late-October evening in a park that juts out into the North Atlantic. Mercifully, Shakespeare-By-The-Sea's production of Dracula was held in its indoor theatre. Rather than outside in the open air as their summer productions are.

The play was very creatively assembled. With a cast of five taking on bit parts as well as their main roles. It was a mix of genuine creepiness and occasional flashes of humour that worked well. It's impressive what can be done with a small room hung with black fabric and containing only three basic props. Oh . . . and puppets. I was skeptical at first. But the puppets were a highlight of the evening.

feeling deflated

2011-10-26T15:47:00.001-03:00

While it is heartening to see far fewer "happy scarecrows" loitering around my neighbourhood this year, giant inflatables seem to be making a comeback. Even if some of them are a little less inflated than others.

Frankenstein's monster lives down the street from me. Looks like he's had a few too many late nights this season.

resistance is futile

2011-10-25T10:30:00.000-03:00

Each year around this time, my resolve breaks down. And I buy a bag of miniature Halloween chocolate bars. Not for trick-or-treaters. Just to snack on. Sort of a reward for seeing these in stores since August and always walking past them. Looking away. But now, with Halloween so close, I think, what's the harm in buying a bag? Or two. So I do. And I bring the bag of bars home and empty it into one of my Halloween candy dishes.

The problem is . . . I don't live alone. I live with three other people who have even less willpower than I have when standing in close proximity to candy.

These might last 24 hours.

wooden expressions

2011-10-24T08:45:00.000-03:00

Even though I've abandoned more my ambitious plans for my yard this Halloween. Even though I've resigned myself to simply putting together an amalgam of previous years' props. I've still felt the need to create something new. But with little more than a week until Halloween night, that "something new" was going to have to be something simple.

Then, to my rescue, came my old faithful tree stumps.

The tree stumps have had quite a long history with me. They came into being almost ten years ago. After a hurricane resulted in the downfall of a large pine tree in our backyard. My father-in-law's chainsaw carved that tree up into multiple pieces to allow for easier disposal. But I believed the larger stumps might have some practical use. So I kept them. And over the years, they've rarely let me down. They've served as side tables at outdoor barbecues. They've been the support for temporary benches. They've acted as the "bodies" of seated props in early Halloween displays. And they've provided support for lightweight props in later ones.

But lately, I've had to acknowledge that my faithful tree stumps had deteriorated. The wind and the rain, the snow and the ice, had not been kind to them. Many were literally falling apart under the strain. And it was that process of deterioration in one of the larger stumps that reminded me of an open, jagged mouth.

I wanted a "last-minute" prop. It doesn't get much more "last-minute" than this.

at long last . . . sun

2011-10-23T08:01:00.001-03:00

The sun finally emerged after an especially rainy and windy week. There was no time to lose. I live in a coastal city. Precipitation could return at any moment. So I took advantage of the sunshine and warmth to freshen up a few tombstones and build an addition to my rickety fence.

It was a perfect Saturday.

Nocturne 2011: Year of the Bubbles

2011-10-22T09:00:00.000-03:00

For the fourth consecutive year, Halifax has held a city-wide nighttime art show. Nocturne. Free admission to galleries. Temporary installations created throughout the city. It's a wonderful event. And one that I look forward to each October. But this year, I noticed some . . . differences.

Perhaps in the beginning, contributors were inspired by the darkness that would surround their work. Or maybe by the timing of the event in mid-October. Because many of those early installations possessed an aura of creepiness.

From ghostly figures on lamp posts.

To a dimly-lit graveyard of suitcases.

To a decaying mermaid.

This year, however, the over-riding theme appeared to be bubbles and balloons. Still enjoyable, but overall, a shinier, happier Nocturne.

I painted with light at the Discovery Centre while bubbles spilled out into the street. I listened to my heartbeat amplified through a pulsating pink and white, fibre optic jellyfish. I re-created the experience of a car (sort of) while passing through the Happy Wash.

In retrospect, I think the creepiest part of the night had to be the two giant birds who built a room full of balloons containing the live Tweets they received during the evening.

But then again, I find most feathered creatures disturbing.

bell, book and pumpkin spice coffee

2011-10-21T16:00:00.000-03:00

I rarely enter contests on blogs. It's not that I don't want to. It's simply that, rather than respond immediately, I make a mental note to go back. Then my mental note gets lost. And the next thing I know, winners are being announced. But when I noticed that Wendy (the very good witch) was hosting a contest at The Halloween Tree, I acted immediately. Why? Because the prize was a copy of Bell, Book and Candle. One of those movies that I have long wanted to see but for one reason or another, have never gotten around to.

But the Halloween gods smiled upon me. I won! And after days of waiting and watching, my DVD was in the mailbox.

But there was much more in the package than a DVD. There was a skeleton and candy and pencils and pumpkins and lavender. And pumpkin spice coffee!

And of course, the DVD for which I had been waiting. Thank you, Wendy!

I know how I'll be spending my Friday evening. I expect this to be a nice change of pace from the largely mediocre horror movies that have comprised this season's viewing so far.

But I may have some competition for the pumpkin spice coffee.

it's a conspiracy

2011-10-20T21:12:00.001-03:00

I'm not usually a paranoid person. But I think the weather is conspiring against me.

It happens every year. No sooner do I begin to set up my front yard for Halloween than it begins. Rain. Torrential rain. And wind. Raging wind. And I spend the remainder of October doing Halloween damage control. As I write this, the wind and rain are finally subsiding. And I'm afraid to look outside.

I think I'll just spend the evening inside with my candles, where it's warm and dry.

pumpkin cake

2011-10-19T22:42:00.001-03:00

My mother loved to bake. And I loved to eat what she baked. Most of it. Unless it was a new recipe she was trying out that involved vegetables. Or fruit disguised as vegetables. Because as far as I was concerned, baked goods and vegetables simply did not belong together. In my world, there would be no zucchini bread. No carrot cake. And certainly no pumpkin cake. It just wasn't natural.

Eventually, I relaxed this iron-clad rule. Thanks to my mother's pumpkin cake. Because as revolted as I was by the idea of it, I could not resist the aroma of this freshly baked dessert. And it served as a gateway to other vegetable-based cakes.

So when I found the recipe in an old collection recently, I thought, why not try to re-capture those early pumpkin memories? Most of my early pumpkin memories are of the plastic variety; it would be nice to revisit a truly organic one. I silently forgave my mother for her misspelling of "pumkin" in the recipe, and I set to work. With my personal contribution of chocolate chips. Because there are few things in this world that can't be improved upon by the addition of chocolate.

Naturally, my pumpkin cake did not turn out as incredibly delicious as my mother's. Likely because she might have made modifications as she went along that were not included in the recipe. As I will make some modifications next time. Most notably, I'll use butter instead of oil. And I will double, or perhaps triple, the amounts of the spices. The cinnamon and cloves were woefully under-represented. The chocolate chips, however, were perfect. No modification required.

new in town

2011-10-18T20:21:00.000-03:00

Halloween decorations in my neighbourhood tend to follow the popular trends. One year, the area was besieged by witches flying into trees. Another year, smiling scarecrows had taken over. Then there was the year that the front of at least one house on every street was obscured by a giant inflatable. But it has been a long time since the heyday of tree ghosts.

Too long.

I believe the occupants of this house just moved in this year. Good to see they're ghost-friendly people.

The Mad Monster

2011-10-17T21:06:00.000-03:00

After an enjoyable version of The Bat, my Halloween movie viewing takes a sharp turn back to mediocrity with The Mad Monster.

Dr. Cameron is a scientist (why are scientists always loony in these old movies?) who has developed a serum from the blood of wolves that will turn people into homicidal werewolves. He believes it's a brilliant idea with many practical applications. His colleagues disagree and ridicule him. So he and his adult daughter, who is oblivious to her father's "experiments", pack up and move to the country, where he can continue his important work in peace. And conduct imaginary meetings with his former colleagues.

Conveniently, his new house in the country comes equipped with a mentally-challenged gardener. The perfect subject for the serum's human trials.

The harmless gardener soon transforms into a ferocious werewolf. He is released from the lab by Dr. Cameron, kills someone, and then calmly returns to the lab. Where he is restored to his human form with no memory of what has happened. Delighted with the success of his experiment, Cameron takes the next logical step. He plots the deaths of his former colleagues at the hands of his monster/gardener.

His plan is moving along swimmingly, until his daughter finally becomes somewhat suspicious of her father's true motives and confides in her journalist boyfriend. Because she certainly couldn't be expected to deal with this on her own.

Clues are assembled quickly and the plot unravels before too many sane scientists are killed.

But not before the film's highlight. Watching Dr. Cameron hold up a vial of his serum and laugh maniacally. As only a mad scientist can.

That laugh never gets old.

grocery store horror

2011-10-16T07:58:00.000-03:00

Time was, grocery store displays were mild, innocuous affairs. In autumn, you could count on a lovely harvest scene. Hay bales. Apples. Pumpkins. And approaching Halloween, perhaps a few friendly, smiling jack-o-lanterns.

But apparently, all that has changed.

My local grocery store has become positively terrifying. I wonder of "Farm Fresh" refers to the apples or to the severed hand resting on them.

sun and wind and flowers

2011-10-15T17:40:00.001-03:00

As part of my "everything old is new again" theme this year, I took last year's Halloween flowers into the backyard/workshop for some fresh air and some fresh paint.

All it took was a collection of logs and bricks to hold everything down and prevent it from blowing away. It was a blustery day. But with little more than two weeks until Halloween, I don't have the luxury of waiting for the wind to stop.

economically haunted

2011-10-14T17:00:00.000-03:00

On a recent weekend road trip, I found myself down on the southern edge of the Bay of Fundy, on a boat to Brier Island. I was familiar with Brier Island before I went. Sort of. I knew it was popular as a base for whale watching expeditions. I knew it was home to a lodge and hiking trails. And that's where I thought it ended. A small, wild, largely-unspoiled island just off the Nova Scotia coast.So imagine my surprise when we drove off the ferry and into a village. Unbeknownst to me, Brier Island is home to the once-thriving fishing village of Westport. Who knew? I clearly need to start taking more of an interest in my home province. Anyhow, while Westport may have once been a bustling little village, it has clearly fallen upon hard times. With their main source of income now from the summer tourist season, most businesses are seasonal and shut down in the fall. Abandoned homes are plentiful. And on the rainy, overcast day on which I visited, they had an unmistakable potentially-haunted quality about them.

And while I take no delight in the misfortune of others, it made for some interesting sightseeing. Can't wait to go back.

The Bat

2011-10-13T17:41:00.000-03:00

My Halloween movie-viewing luck has turned. Thus far this season, I've been randomly selecting old horror films and until now they've been somewhat . . . mediocre. Notable mainly for their cliches and cheesy charm. And although I'm a huge fan of cheesy charm, I was glad to finally stumble upon a film that is a few more rungs up on the quality ladder.

The Bat is a 1959 film starring Vincent Price and one of my favourite actresses, Agnes Moorehead. In her pre-Endora days. The film is based on a play of the same name, which, I once read, may have provided some of the inspiration for Batman. Although having now seen the film, I very much doubt it. But I digress.

The film takes place in a spooky old house that has been rented by a mystery writer and her maid/companion. The house was the scene of a series of murders several years before committed by a killer known as The Bat, and news reports that he is free again have led most of the servants to quit. Making the house nearly deserted in addition to spooky and old. Meanwhile, the house's current owner, a bank president, has embezzled the bank's money, left an underling to take the blame, and hidden the money somewhere in the house. Unfortunately, he dies before he can retrieve it, leaving someone very interested in finding it.

Despite Vincent Price's star billing, Agnes Moorehead has the central role in this film. Producers were likely counting on Vincent Price being a more recognizable name at the box office. The character of Cornelia is central to a group of several female characters, including the companion, the wife of the embezzler's scapegoat, and the bank president's former secretary, who find themselves together in the house, and stalked by The Bat, one dark night.

In spite of some screaming and hysteria (I'd scream too if confronted by The Bat) all of the female characters are strong and likable and are integral to the solving of the mystery. A solution which is not obvious from the beginning in a plot peppered with red herrings and misdirection. It's the first of this season's films that I wouldn't hesitate to watch again.

resurrection

2011-10-12T20:00:00.003-03:00

I had resigned myself to a final crop yield of four pumpkins this year. And I was fine with that. Sure, I was dismayed about those that had died on the journey,but I knew from previous experience that not all that started out would make it until the end.

And then, something amazing happened.

I had taken the soft, spongy pumpkin - the one that had prompted my emergency harvest- and set it beside the house. I wanted to watch it rot slowly as the porch pumpkin had done. Because I'm odd like that. But it didn't rot. It just . . .sat there. And yesterday, when I touched it, it was no longer soft and spongy. It had become solid once again. And was even showing signs of ripening. I was ecstatic.

It's a Halloween miracle!

the sweet taste of autumn

2011-10-11T18:29:00.003-03:00

The journey home from Thanksgiving weekend in Cape Breton was glorious. Warm and sunny and lined with red, orange and yellow trees. The perfect day for a stop at a roadside market.

Where they had not one, not two, but three kinds of seasonal fudge. Pumpkin Praline. Pumpkin Nut. And Caramel Apple.

Of course, it was necessary to buy every one of them.

Happy Thanksgiving

2011-10-10T15:00:00.000-03:00

I've been spending the Thanksgiving weekend with family in Cape Breton. And as I sit here in the 28C heat, with the sunshine and soft breezes streaming through the window, I can't remember a Thanksgiving weekend that felt less autumnal.

But there may be a way to fix that. When I stopped at the liquor store for a bottle of wine for Thanksgiving dinner, my attention was drawn to a lovely label. Maybe this will bring a slight chill to Thanksgiving. In more ways than one.

The Monster Walks

2011-10-09T11:00:00.000-03:00

The Monster Walks may be the origin of the classic haunted house B-movie. The template. The seed from which all other classic haunted house B-movies grew.

It's all here. A dark and stormy night. A spooky old mansion. A mysterious death. The reading of the will. Creepy servants.

Oh . . . and an ape living in a cage in the basement who harbours an intense dislike of the dead man's daughter. The dead man's screaming, fainting, often hysterical daughter who has returned home for the reading of her father's will. This would be the "monster" of the film's title. The ape; not the daughter.

The real monster, of course, is not the ape, but someone else entirely. Although, to the film's credit, the real villain isn't obvious from the beginning.

This film is worth watching primarily to marvel at how many old horror movie cliches it contains. Other than that, there isn't much to recommend, most notably some racial stereotyping that apparently passed as comic relief at the time. On a positive note, the film is brief. And will only consume 65 minutes of your Halloween preparation time.

emergency harvest

2011-10-08T11:00:00.000-03:00

So I had been holding off on harvesting this year's pumpkin crop. The growing season got off to a slow start, thanks to a cold and wet spring. And the summer-like weather in September persuaded me to let the pumpkins sit and ripen in the garden a while longer. I had been discouraged by the appearance of rot and the subsequent demise of my porch pumpkin. But I felt confident that the remaining five would benefit from some extra time on the vine.

Until several days ago. When I took a closer look at the largest pumpkin of the crop. Not a closer look, exactly. A closer touch. And what I felt was a softening, spongy exterior. Horrified, and fearing the worst for my four remaining pumpkins, I dashed into the house, grabbed the nearest knife, and began an immediate harvest.

My four pumpkins are now resting comfortably on the deck. Two are a bright orange; two are still quite green, but are beginning to ripen.

The survivors of 2011. (Candy corn is for sizing purposes only; it did not emerge from the pumpkin.)

the horror of poor spelling

2011-10-07T09:26:00.000-03:00

I made a shocking discovery at Michaels last weekend.

A shocking discovery regarding clowns. Not only are they creepy. That much is undeniable. But there's more.

Their spelling is atrocious.

It seems there's never a Spell-Check around when you need one.

Halloween Crush

2011-10-06T10:00:00.000-03:00

I abhor orange-flavoured pop. Every brand I've ever tried tastes bitter to me. Like medicine, artificially flavoured to make it more palatable.

My husband is my polar opposite in this respect. He loves orange pop. It's his beverage of choice, and he seems so disappointed when it isn't on a menu. I can usually ignore this character defect. But when I noticed him carrying a bottle of Orange Crush recently, I saw something I couldn't ignore.

It appears Orange Crush has been transformed, at least temporarily, into Orange-O-Lantern Crush.

Never in my life had I wanted so badly to like, actually like, orange pop. But it seemed impossible. So I hurried to the nearest store. If the orange flavour had been transformed, maybe Crush had similarly altered its Grape, Lime, and Cream Soda flavours . . .

And indeed it had! Lime, Grape and Cream Soda had become "Slime", "Gruesome Grape", and . . . . "Blood Cherry"? Apparently there was no way to make Cream Soda sound spooky. So of course, I scooped up one of each. Relieved that I didn't have to subject myself to the horrors of Orange Crush.

Gruesome Grape is my personal favourite.

if it's raining, it must be october

2011-10-05T09:00:00.000-03:00

It won't stop raining.

Every weekend and many evenings since autumn began, I've been trying to find an opportunity to drag some old props into the backyard and (in keeping with this year's theme of "everything old is new again"), freshen them up. In most cases, "freshening them up" requires spray paint. And spray paint requires dry weather. At least for a while.

But it just keeps raining. And misting. And drizzling. Culminating yesterday in an intense evening of wind and pouring rain. So instead of working on props, I ate candy corn cookies, made a cup of pumpkin tea, lit some Halloween candles, and listened to the rain lash the windows.

The coming weekend promises better weather. Too bad I have to be out of town for Thanksgiving.

The Vampire Bat

2011-10-04T12:18:00.000-03:00

Setting aside my fear of vampires, I sat down this weekend to watch The Vampire Bat (1933). To be fair, I felt safe in choosing this film because the blurb on the DVD package referred to a string of murders supposedly committed by a vampire . . . until the real culprit is revealed. That told me all I needed to know. No real vampires would be present.

The film is set in the usual small German village that seems to be a haven for vampires, werewolves, and other assorted monsters. Several murders have been committed involving two puncture marks on the victims' necks and a complete loss of blood. Clearly, a sign that vampires are at work.

Naturally, the prime suspect is a mentally-challenged young man who lives in the village. And plays with bats. "They're soft . . ."

Before long, a torch-wielding mob is formed to deal with the problem. But still the murders continue. So it's up to the local detective, providing the voice of reason, and his scientist girlfriend to uncover the truth. Which turns out to be even more frightening than vampires.

Like so many films from this era, The Vampire Bat begins and ends abruptly. But otherwise, this is a solid B-movie. Despite the ability to spot the real villain early on. The scientist girlfriend did not faint or scream hysterically, which was a pleasant surprise. And it ended on a fun note.

It's heart-warming to see the surviving characters able to laugh and crack jokes within mere seconds of the villain's demise. Emotionally healthy, I think.

same old Ichabod

2011-10-03T12:17:00.000-03:00

It was a dark and stormy afternoon.

A perfect afternoon to spend on the couch. Reading. And a perfect opportunity to finally pick up the copy of The Legend of Sleepy Hollow that I bought last summer. In Sleepy Hollow. I have never read the original story, but as I began the tale of Ichabod, a familiar mental image sprung to mind.

I was surprised by this. Until now, the version of the story with which I've been mainly familiar is the Disney animated version. But I expected the original story to bear no more than a passing resemblance. Disney usually "sweetens" the stories it turns into films, sometimes rendering them unrecognizable. But as I read the story, I recognized Ichabod immediately. His mannerisms. His gait. His unwieldy arms and legs. Even his noble steed. It was all there.

Disney remained remarkably true to the original text. And then added the musical stylings of Bing Crosby. I wonder if Washington Irving would have approved.

Frankenstein

2011-10-02T09:00:00.000-03:00

It had promised to be a dark and stormy night, but turned warm and humid instead. Nevertheless, I traveled downtown for Neptune Theatre's autumn offering of Frankenstein. The perfect way to welcome October.

As indicated, the play adhered more closely to the original novel than to any of the subsequent movie versions. Upon entering the theatre, I had noticed Mary Shelley's portrait among those of the show's "creative team". Always a good sign; I'm happy she chose to participate. The monster had no bolts protruding from his head and boasted quite an impressive vocabulary. There were, alas, no villagers carrying flaming torches. But there was thunder, lightning, and crackling electricity.

And while I enjoyed the play, I came away wondering if casting had been completed at the time that the promotional materials were printed. Because the actor portraying the monster bore little resemblance to the photograph on the the posters and the playbill. And not once during the play did he take his shirt off. He looked more like the older brother of the guy on the posters. Or perhaps a crazy uncle.

Just a thought. It didn't diminish my enjoyment of the evening. And I'll always have the playbill's cover image.

sweet anticipation

2011-10-01T10:30:00.000-03:00

Each year, as Halloween candy begins to appear in stores, I find myself inexplicably drawn to mellocreme. Little orange pumpkins. Yellow ears of corn. Assorted witches. And the ubiquitous candy corn. I can't resist it. I eagerly welcome it's arrival every September; it's the first candy I buy. I fill a bag at Bulk Barn and hurry home with my treasure, sampling one or two or ten pieces along the way.

The reason for this is unclear. I suspect it may have something to do with the vibrant fall colours. Or its annual role as a harbinger of Halloween. It certainly isn't the taste. Bland, flavourless, and overly sweet. And as quickly as my excitement arises at that first sight of Halloween mellocreme, it vanishes again. Those one or two or ten pieces, and I'm fine until the following September.

Then there's nothing left to do but find recipes to use up the unwanted excess. Candy corn cookies, anyone? How about a pumpkin patch cake?

the countdown begins

2011-10-01T07:30:00.000-03:00

Having a weakness for any magazine with a pumpkin on the cover, I tend to amass quite a collection between August and October of each year.

And when there are no magazines left to buy, I know it must be October. And the Countdown to Halloween can truly begin.

adjustment problems

2011-09-30T11:55:00.000-03:00

My new job is destroying the quality of my Halloween life. It's not really a new job anymore. But this is the first Halloween to come along since I started. Prior to getting this job, I was out of work for a year and a half. And before that, I spent months working for a company in what turned out to be its dying days. Requiring my presence, but providing me with little to do.

As a result, I've had a few years with ample free time. Time to plan and build props. Time to explore the hills and valleys of the Internet. Time to experiment with new recipes. In the past, I had prepared for Halloween while working, of course. I had made the time. And I was confident that I could find the time once again. It would simply require an adjustment. But it seems that the adjustment period is taking longer than I had anticipated. For which I blame my longer-than-expected hours and the resulting zombie-like state in which I find myself at the end of most work days.

And now, with October on my doorstep, I'm beginning to panic. So I'm taking a deep breath, making myself a large cup of pumpkin chai (with little candy pumpkins!) and re-evaluating my Halloween plans.

Regarding outdoor props, my buzzwords are . . . "Simplify" (even more than I had originally intended) and "Re-purpose". I'm still planning on a couple of new additions, but some old classics will definitely be dusted off and freshened up. Regarding indoor props, my buzzwords are . . . "Zip", "Zero", and "Zilch". Nothing new this year. Allowing me to devote my October evenings to savouring the aroma of my new pumpkin pie and candy corn candles, to watching always-entertaining black-and-white horror classics, and to baking with as much nutmeg, cinnamon and pumpkin as I can incorporate.

And hoping that I can adjust to my work schedule more successfully in 2012.

of fishing towns and crystal skulls

2011-09-29T09:09:00.000-03:00

I had long since given up on the possibility of finding the elusive crystal skull of vodka at my local liquor store. I had buried the resentment I felt that vodka made in Newfoundland was unobtainable just one province away. I had overcome my bitterness that Dan Ackroyd, Canadian Dan Ackroyd, had not stepped up to ensure that this product with which he was associated, was readily available to all of his fellow countrymen.

And then I walked into the liquor store in Digby.

I found myself in Digby on a recent fall weekend road trip. And as on any road trip, a visit to the local liquor store is an absolute necessity. When I saw the display standing prominently in the centre of the store, I was surprised. But merely assumed that it was finally being made more widely available. Not so, said the clerk. This vodka would not be found at any other liquor store in the region. It was obtained specifically for this location. So what makes Digby special? The occasion, each Labour Day weekend, of the Wharf Rat Rally. Apparently there's nothing bikers love more than crystal skulls of vodka, and a supply is ordered especially for the event. I suppose I should feel fortunate that there was some stock left over.

And now, I am gradually working on emptying my new possession. Nothing quenches the remnants of bitterness and resentment like vodka from a skull-shaped bottle.

All is forgiven, Mr. Ackroyd.

roadside pumpkins

2011-09-28T06:58:00.002-03:00

On a road trip last weekend, I saw pumpkins everywhere. It warmed my heart.

Even though my heart didn't need much warming since the weather felt more like July than late September. Maybe it's this sudden rash of heat and humidity that's responsible for my sudden rash of pumpkin rot.

rot

2011-09-25T07:09:00.000-03:00

This is what happens when I become too smug and confident.I was in the front yard tending to my pumpkin plants. Marvelling at how, thanks to a mid-summer growth spurt, I would have six decent-sized pumpkins to carve come Halloween. Not huge. but large enough. My daughter was on the veranda. Looking at the pumpkin that had grown between my veranda posts. And had received that dent. When suddenly, she said, "Look. This looks bad."

From where I was standing, she appeared to be pointing to a small dark spot on the pumpkin's side. "Nonsense," I replied, accustomed as I was to less-than-perfect pumpkins, "it's just one more part of this guy's unique character. It'll be fine." But by the next day, one spot had become several . . .

. . . and six pumpkins were on their way to becoming five.

evening snack

2011-09-24T07:25:00.000-03:00

The spiders in my backyard had a productive day.

candy apples revisited

2011-09-22T11:41:00.000-03:00

I have made no secret of my disdain for candy apples. Beginning with my earliest childhood memories, I have never understood their attraction. Nor the esteem in which they are held by so many. It always seemed that, once you managed to penetrate the thin, sticky, tooth-shattering exterior, you were left with simply a mealy, half-chewed apple. What was so wonderful about that?

In later years, I tried re-creating candy apples myself. Believing that my own creations would be far more delectable. They weren't. So I dismissed the idea of candy apples entirely. Oh, they were out there. I saw them. I witnessed their continued inexplicable popularity. But they no longer had a place in my life.

And then a co-worker began to wax eloquently about the joys of candy apples from the Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory. Possessing a lifelong interest in chocolate, I am of course familiar with this store. And I pass their display of candy apples each time I enter the store, en route to the chocolate and fudge. I've never had any interest in trying their candy apples, however. They could dress them up all they liked; at their heart, they remained . . . candy apples.

But she insisted. They were delicious, she said. Unlike any other candy apple. And they used their own chocolate. And maybe that was the word that weakened my resolve. Chocolate.

So I broke down and bought one. The Skor Apple. With caramel and chocolate and Skor toffee bits. It was huge. And pricey. And likely enough to feed six people.

And it was indeed delicious. The small slice I had was more than enough. Working alone, it would take me days to finish this. And as I savoured the layers of caramel and chocolate and toffee, I reflected upon the success of this particular apple. Why had it succeeded in pleasing me when so many others had failed so miserably?

In the end, I came to the conclusion that the secret is in the candy-to-apple ratio. Thick, thick, thick layers of candy surrounding an average sized apple. Maximum candy; minimum apple. Clearly the secret to success. That, and an absence of red sticky coating.

that's no baby

2011-09-21T09:13:00.000-03:00

I would have to place these in the same category of creepiness as dolls and puppets.

Wal-Mart has taken a decidedly disturbing turn. Or maybe it's just me . . .

softball and pumpkins

2011-09-19T12:29:00.000-03:00

This past weekend was the last official weekend of summer. But it felt much more like the first weekend of autumn. Within a day, temperatures veered from summer-like to crisp to absolutely frigid. But nonetheless, still being summer, it meant that summer activities were still occurring. Like my daughter's softball tournament. Being a dutiful parent, I watched most of the games. But during the hour-long warm-ups, I tended to wander off. And on one of my walks, I encountered a tree that looked as though it had miniature pumpkins hanging from it.

When I got closer, I recognized it for what it really was. But I prefer to stand back and squint. Then, I'm not looking at a Mountain Ash. I'm looking at a Halloween Tree.

monster cookies

2011-09-17T08:20:00.000-03:00

It was beginning again. Blog after blog after blog. Heralding the return of autumn and Halloween-themed foods to store shelves everywhere. Everywhere except here. Apparently, "out there", there exists a plethora of Halloween and pumpkin goodness at this time of year. Pop Tarts. Ice Cream. Flavoured Coffee. Cereals.

And here . . . ? Here I get to pass displays of Pillsbury slice-and-bake cookies in the grocery freezer section.

Until now.

Because this week, staring out at me from a store shelf was none other than . . . "Monsters" cookies. Box upon box upon box of Monsters cookies. With the all-important selling features of real cocoa and zero trans fat. No longer did I have to lament the absence of Halloween-inspired food products in my life. No longer did I have to eat vicariously through the posts and photographs of others, more fortunate than I. Now I, too, could partake in the goodness of seasonal treats.

I grabbed a box and took it home.

Yes, the cookies were dry. And bland. And barely recognizable as the monsters they represented. And I never would have suspected the inclusion of "real cocoa" had they not promised it on the box. But all of that is beside the point. What matters here is that my autumn dreams have finally been realized. As I kept reminding myself while I choked down a second and third monster cookie.

These may require an extra-large cup of pumpkin tea.

signs

2011-09-15T13:46:00.000-03:00

Yes, pumpkins are appearing everywhere. But the truly unmistakable sign that Halloween is getting very close is the tower of chips that now stands near the entrance of every grocery and department store.

I'm wondering how long I can resist buying a box. Or two.

pumpkin chai

2011-09-14T13:30:00.000-03:00

It may have been the cover photo on the brochure that drew me in.

I've been needing to replenish my tea supply for a while now, and Davids' new fall list gave me the motivation to do just that.Pumpkin Chai is described as tasting of "Cinnamon, cloves, cardamom, plus the sweetness of caramel and pumpkin candy." I can attest to that. This tea may surpass pumpkin ale (of which I have found few that I truly enjoy) on the list of my autumn beverages of choice.

But it still lags slightly behind pumpkin spice latte.

bent

2011-09-09T13:13:00.000-03:00

I've been watching the pumpkin that's been growing between the posts on my veranda. It's been one of the more successful aspects of my vertical pumpkin growing experiment. And I believed that, as the pumpkin grew larger, the posts would quite naturally push it forward and onto the veranda floor.

But no.

When I took a closer look, I discovered to my horror that the posts were indeed squeezing the pumpkin. But they were holding it captive. Denting its sides. Preventing the areas in contact with the posts from expanding. Luckily, I check on my pumpkins regularly. And was able to rescue the little guy before it became hopelessly trapped. Apart from a couple of dents, it continues to thrive. But it opens up a world of possibilities. Maybe next year, I'll try this . . .

haunted by twelve year olds

2011-09-07T08:28:00.000-03:00

While on our anniversary weekend in Annapolis Royal, we made one last stop before going home. We spent an afternoon at a nearby amusement park. Upper Clements Park has many of the classics that one might expect: carousel, roller coaster, pedal boats, ferris wheel . . . and a haunted house.

I was intrigued. This would compensate for my disappointment over the poor timing of the lantern-lit graveyard tour. And being a traditional sort of amusement park, I fully anticipated a traditional sort of haunted house. Walking up the long, winding path toward the house on the edge of the park, my hopes were encouraged. Suddenly a house, quite an impressive stone house, came into view.

There was a hearse parked in front. And a suitably spooky sign beside the door. I was certain that this would be the highlight of the park. I waited to be "summoned" inside.

The door opened . . .

As we walked inside, we were greeted by several teenagers in park staff shirts. No costumes. No make-up. Nothing creepy. Or at least nothing creepier than a group of teenagers in t-shirts. Odd, I thought. But I wasn't deterred. They were obviously saving the real creepiness for deeper inside the house.

We were asked to "take a look around upstairs". As I walked slowly up the dark, narrow, winding staircase to the second floor, I was prepared for anything. Costumed actors. A terrifying tableau. Vague whispers emanating from the darkness. I wasn't prepared, however, for what I actually encountered.

In retrospect, I believe the house must have been there when the property was acquired for the park. It was a beautiful stone structure. Too nice to have been built solely for this purpose. And I believe the house sat there, unused, until someone had the brilliant idea to turn it into a "haunted house". And it would have been a brilliant idea indeed. If they hadn't turned it over to a bunch of twelve year-olds. Because that was certainly the impression we got as we "explored" the haunted second floor. Three rooms. A blood-splattered bathroom. And two similarly "haunted" bedrooms. One of which was black-lit with a "ghostly" figure in a wedding dress sitting in a rocking chair.

That was the highlight. We couldn't actually enter the bedrooms. Only look at them from the doorways. As we moved along to look for more horrors, we were greeted by an EXIT sign. Which led us past the haunted kitchen/mad scientist's lab, with various saws and axes strewn around. And finally the group of teenagers in t-shirts that had greeted us when we entered. We appeared to be disturbing their conversation as we left.

At least the sign was impressive.

tigers and spiders

2011-09-05T20:01:00.000-03:00

So another wedding anniversary has come and gone. Our celebration of the occasion has been similar for the past few years. We typically choose a Nova Scotia town that we rarely visit and spend the weekend there at a local inn. Preferably a haunted inn.

This year, our town of choice was Annapolis Royal. A town that spent centuries as the focus of a tug-of-war between England and France. A haven for ghosts, one would expect. And perhaps it is. But I was unable to find an inn with an attached ghost story. We did, however, end up staying at an inn across the street from an old graveyard adjacent to the town's historic fort. And discovered that evening graveyard ghost tours were held there regularly.

I was delighted.

Until I learned that they were available only Mondays through Thursdays. Mondays through Thursdays! Once I recovered from my disappointment and disbelief that no tour was available on weekends, we explored the graveyard on our own. And the following day, we wandered through the nearby botanical gardens. Where I was quite naturally drawn to the bright orange tiger lillies.

And the spider flowers.

But the weekend was not entirely without an eerie touch. The mosquitoes were terrifying.

unofficial latte

2011-09-03T16:41:00.001-03:00

So I walked into a local Starbucks today in search of a Pumpkin Spice Latte. I'd heard it wasn't available until September 5th or 6th. But I thought I'd check anyway. I asked the barista. She glanced quickly from side to side and whispered, "Well . . . it's not officially available yet. But we have the pumpkin spice syrup. We can make you one since you asked. Just don't tell anybody."

No worries. The secret is safe with me.

simplicity

2011-09-02T22:28:00.003-03:00

Sometimes the simplest Halloween costumes are the most effective.

I may never look at large sacks in quite the same way again.

Source

one month away

2011-08-31T21:25:00.000-03:00

The Countdown to Halloween is one month away!

I will be participating for the fourth consecutive year and attempting to post every day throughout the month of October. Even if it kills me. If this sounds like fun to you, follow this link for more details.

pumpkin renaissance

2011-08-30T18:06:00.000-03:00

Back in July, the situation was bleak.

A cold, rainy June and a July of less than average amounts of sunshine meant crops were a couple of weeks behind schedule. At best. Including my pumpkins. When they finally emerged from the soil, they were immediately set upon by a still-unidentified predator. Only three plants survived. Even the seedlings I had purchased at a garden centre as my back-up were not immune. In fact, they were the first to go. I was devastated.

I felt I might never plant another pumpkin seed.

Then, in August, everything changed. The weather didn't appear to improve dramatically. But my pumpkin plants did. Those last survivors, which had been limping along for weeks, suddenly sprung to life. Extending their stems and vines across my front garden and amongst the shrubs and perennials.

Even climbing the sides of my veranda as I had envisioned months ago.

Producing strong healthy leaves that seemed less susceptible to whatever creature had been feasting upon them.

And best of all, despite the numerous fledgling pumpkins that had withered and died before their lives had truly begun, four pumpkins thrived and grew larger. Leaving me hopeful about their carving potential. All four are already larger than the biggest of last year's crop. They just need to survive for a few more weeks.

I'm not sure if I can take the credit for the stunning turnaround in the pumpkin patch. Perhaps it was my diligence in watering and fertilizing and checking on their progress each day. Making sure they were comfortable. Perhaps it was the mid-summer weather. The alternating weeks of rain. And sunshine. And more rain. Whatever the reason, my faith has been restored. I'm not ready to throw in the pumpkin-planting towel quite yet.

Motha

2011-08-27T08:36:00.000-03:00

So yesterday evening, I sat down and leisurely explored the pages of Martha's new Halloween magazine. Ideally, I would have done this at home with my feet up, with autumn scented candles burning and with a mug of pumpkin spice latte in one hand. But real life intervened. So instead, I found myself at my daughter's softball game. Where hordes of angry mosquitoes forced me off the bleachers and back to the safety of my car. Fortunately, I had thought to bring Martha along for company. I did have my feet up however. Up on the passenger seat beside me.

But now back to Martha . . .

I was moderately pleased with my purchase. Even if the "Martha as Mothra" cover creeped me out a little. I have issues with moths' wings. But that's another story.

This year's Halloween offering is not an entirely new one.

But it is mostly new. And while not up to the level of past years (which makes me wonder about staff changes amongst her minions) there are a few ideas that caught my eye . . .

. . . including the section on classic B-movie-inspired costumes. Which I'm sure hasn't influenced my opinion of the magazine in the least. My personal favourite is "The Vanishing Man". Clearly a relative of "The Invisible Man", who must have been too busy for the photo shoot.

Yes, this year, Martha is all about classic images and B-movies. And pistachio cupcakes.

I will most definitely be trying the pistachio cupcakes.

she's back

2011-08-25T03:30:00.000-03:00

There she was. Right in front of me as I waited in line at the grocery store. Staring at me from the cover of her new Halloween issue.

And I have every reason to believe it is a new issue this year. I didn't notice the words "best of " or "highlights" anywhere on the cover. But I haven't gotten past the cover yet. I'm waiting for a break in my day so I can sit down and savour it. Perhaps with the accompaniment of a hard apple cider.

the usual suspects

2011-08-21T21:32:00.000-03:00

My three remaining pumpkin plants appear to have overcome the monster that threatened to devour them earlier in the season. The creature that consumed the majority of their comrades. That promised to eradicate every last pumpkin plant in my front yard. While it's still too early to tell if any pumpkins will survive, with such tough survivors around them, I remain cautiously optimistic. But I am disappointed that I was never able to positively identify the culprit.

I've had my suspicions.

At first, I thought it might have been the ubiquitous ants, which seem to crawl over every inch of the soil in my garden.

There is indeed "No menace like it". But while the ants are clearly in control of my yard, and while I can testify to the fact that killing one means that two take its place, they have not posed a problem to my garden plants in the past. No, a more likely suspect might be . . . the slugs. Having undoubtedly enjoyed my hostas, they may have been looking to add variety to their diet.

But while slugs are stealthy creatures, their numbers have been few this season. From outer space or not, they would have needed to pick up the pace to wreak the havoc that had been bestowed upon my young plants in the spring. The slugs were cleared.

Then, visiting my struggling pumpkin plants one day, I was startled by a grey fluttering amongst the leaves. Leading me to suspect . . . moths. Until now, they've been primarily concerned with destroying my front yard grass in a larval form (that's another story) but they may have moved on in search of new adventure.

Whether motivated by love or by the desire for pumpkin leaves and stems, the moths were a real possibility. My prime suspects. Until I was ambushed by . . . grasshoppers. Everywhere. Jumping with wild abandon throughout my front garden. But in particular, amongst the pumpkins . . . One was even resting comfortably within a pumpkin leaf.

Yes, it could have been the grasshoppers. In Horrorscope. The beginning of the end indeed for most of my plants. But I can only speculate about their guilt.

And I still have my suspicions about my neighbours' cats.

500

2011-08-20T08:06:00.000-03:00

I recently noticed on my Blogger dashboard that this post would be my 500th. It seems a significant milestone, so I've been trying to come up with a suitably significant post. Something that encapsulates the past three years since I sat at a desk at my former job. With less and less to do each day. Becoming painfully aware that the end was nigh. Trying to come up with new and creative ways to fill the hours. And since it was August and my mind was of course on Halloween and since I had been discovering and reading several Halloween blogs and since there were only so many hours in a day I that I could spend on Facebook, I thought, why not begin my own Halloween blog? It was meant to be seasonal, active throughout September and October, shutting down in November. But I had enjoyed it too much and I missed it. So since then, I've tried to find a little bit of Halloween in every season. And now here I sit, three years later, trying to create a post worthy of being Number 500.

I got nothin'.

So I'll simply share one of my favourite Halloween photographs and move on to post number 501.

From the Mahone Bay Pumpkin Path. Where there are always so many interesting faces to encounter.

doubt

2011-08-14T14:53:00.008-03:00

I'm trying not to panic. Trying not to lose faith. But I know that by this time of year, professional pumpkin growers are preparing for their harvests. And I know that by this time last year, my seven healthy pumpkins, while not huge, were the size of grapefruits. This year, thanks to a very wet and cold summer and a still-unidentified creature devouring the majority of my plants, I am left with only three plants and twice as many fledgling pumpkins. The largest of which currently looks like this . . .

. . . and measures two whole inches in length.

I'm putting on a brave face in front of the pumpkins. But I'm also secretly planning an autumn visit to a favourite local pumpkin patch. Don't hate me, Great Pumpkin.

something old, something new

2011-08-09T22:02:00.001-03:00

It's that time of year again. When I begin to scan the magazine shelves regularly, looking for that first smiling jack-o-lantern staring back at me. So far, there have been only a couple of autumn offerings to tempt me. And then, as anticipated, the first true sign of Halloween.

I greet the appearance of this magazine each year with mixed emotions. I know it's filled with cutesy crafts and recipes recycled and modified only slightly from year to year. I couldn't begin to count how many versions of the Rice Krispie jack-o-lantern I've encountered in my lifetime. But as I stand there in the grocery aisle, it is unfailingly the first glimpse of a Halloween magazine that I receive every summer. And I can't resist it.

So maybe it's just me. Maybe this summer's incessant rain is making my brain soggy. Or maybe it's simply a result of my diminished expectations. But this year's offering seems to be a modest improvement over recent years. Particularly in the beverage section.

This cider is at the top of my list if the Valley's apple crop survives the summer.

And if September's weather turns out to be warmer than August's (as it sometimes does) I may opt for a cold smoothie instead of hot cider.

Yes, as I eagerly turned the pages, I was impressed with several of this year's recipes. Maybe there has been a conscious effort on the part of the magazine's producers to add some variety and freshness to their standard repertoire. Or maybe I'm still giddy from that first glimpse of orange.

the flies

2011-08-05T22:04:00.001-03:00

I look forward to my evening walks. Around the neighbourhood. Past ponds and lakes and streams. It's very relaxing. Unless it's immediately after a heavy rain. Much like the heavy rain we experienced earlier this week. Because heavy rains and warm temperatures combine to spawn pure horror. Horror in the form of massive clouds of flies. I'm walking along, minding my own business, enjoying the scenery. Then suddenly . . . my head is surrounded. Surrounded by flies. And maybe it's just me, but every one of those flies looks exactly like this:

I think I'll stay inside until it dries out.

opportunity lost

2011-08-02T21:11:00.005-03:00

I'm sitting here listening to (and watching) the remnants of a severe thunder and lightning storm that just passed through the area. It was a rare treat. Thunderstorms here are usually brief and lacklustre. Entirely forgettable. But this one . . . this one lasted for hours. And it was powerful. Powerful enough to knock out the electricity. Twice.

I view the storm's passing as a missed opportunity. Had I anticipated its severity, I could have prepared.

I could have harnessed the power of the elements.

Who knows what might have resulted?

Ah, well. Perhaps it was for the best. These experiments always seem to end badly.

But wait . . . there's another flash. It's not over yet. Maybe there's still time . .

summer reading

2011-07-28T09:06:00.002-03:00

I'm embarrassed to admit this, but I've never actually read the original text of Washington Irving's Legend of Sleepy Hollow. My knowledge of the story comes from its myriad of modern incarnations. Most prominently, Disney's classic cartoon.

But finally, I can put my shame to rest. Because on my recent vacation stop in Sleepy Hollow, I picked up a copy in a local museum gift shop. Along with a print and a Christmas ornament created by a local artist specifically for the museum. After all, nothing says "Merry Christmas" like a tin representation of a pumpkin-wielding headless horseman hanging on the tree.

The book is at the top of my reading list for the approaching long weekend.

a beer by any other name . . .

2011-07-24T13:31:00.001-03:00

So while planning the drive back to Nova Scotia from Tarrytown, it seemed best to break it into two days. Sixteen hours of non-stop driving wasn't terribly appealing. And completely contrary to the word "vacation". So I booked a hotel in a spot we've visited often and always enjoy. The town of Rockport on Cape Ann in Massachusetts. And since the drive took us within five minutes of Salem, it was unthinkable that we wouldn't stop for a visit. Salem in July is a completely different experience than Salem in October. Much quieter. Much warmer. Much less Halloween in the air. But it is still a lovely little city and we enjoyed our afternoon wandering around the streets and shops.

There was more, however. I had an ulterior motive for stopping in Salem. On our last October visit, three years ago, we ate at the Salem Beer Works. And whilst devouring our nachos, onion rings, and chicken wings, I noticed that the brewery had its own line of Salem/ Halloween themed beer. I was beyond excited. What was more, they were available in bottles that could be purchased at the adjacent brewery store. Perfect. Or so I thought. Sadly, my joy was short-lived. I had made this discovery on a Sunday. The beer store was closed on Sunday. And we had to leave early the next morning.

Someday, I promised myself . . . someday . . .

And finally, "someday" had arrived. "Someday" was now. After wandering the city, we all converged at the statue of Samantha in a town square and made our way to the beer works.

The signs greeted me as we walked through the front door. Witch City Red. Pumpkinhead Ale. Black Bat Stout. All with suitably creepy imagery. All within reach at last. We ordered our food and I immediately inquired about purchasing bottles to take home. Why yes, I was told, I could buy any of the beers listed. In bottles. And yes, I could put together an assorted six-pack. I began making my list. Tell Tale Lager. Witch City Red. Salem Pale Ale. . . I envisioned the addition of six new Halloween-themed labels to my growing beer bottle collection. Because anyone who knows me knows that the labels interest me far more than the beer itself.

It was when I communicated this fact to our waiter that things went awry.

"Oh . . ", he stated. ( I knew then that this wouldn't end well.) "The bottled beer isn't available with the Salem-themed labels. It's the same beer, but the label would say 'Boston Common Red' or 'Fenway Park Lager'." These were names that simply would not fit in with my Halloween beer collection. Apparently, their Salem-themed names were used only for on-tap beer in this location. For local colour. Devastated, I canceled my order.

Looks like I won't need a new shelf for my beer bottles after all.

wax

2011-07-21T09:34:00.000-03:00

Arriving in Times Square on the first day of my recent New York City trip, it was hard to miss the giant golden hand beckoning visitors to Madame Tussaud's Wax Museum. I had been to Madame Tussaud's in London many, many, many years ago and was curious to see how the New York version measured up. When I went inside and saw the price of admission, however, I decided I would be content to simply relive the memories of my London experience.

But my teenage children, who hadn't been alive during my trip to England, were eager to experience Madame Tussaud's wax collection. So I paid their admission, gave my daughter the camera, and instructed her, when taking photographs, to include anything that might interest me.

She knows me well.

sleepy hollow by sunlight

2011-07-20T12:59:00.019-03:00

So I'm home from a week's vacation in New York City. And one of my favourite parts of the trip had nothing to do with the city itself.

Not wanting to drive in Manhattan, we opted to stay in upstate New York and take the train into the city. And quite naturally, as I was exploring a map, looking for a suitable spot, my eyes fell upon Sleepy Hollow. Perfect, I thought.

Alas, not quite so perfect. There was no hotel in Sleepy Hollow itself, so we stayed in nearby Tarrytown. And my dreams of a lantern-lit ghost walk through Sleepy Hollow Cemetery evaporated when I discovered that most of their ghostly activities take place in the fall. Ah well, I now have an excuse to return.

But despite the fact that it occurred under the intense light and heat of a July sun, it was a worthwhile visit. The spirit of Ichabod and his headless pursuer was everywhere.

From the orange and black street signs . . .

. . . to the stone carvings . . .

. . . to the metal statue near the original bridge . . .

. . . to the site of the famous bridge. Now a busy and somewhat dangerous intersection. Fortunately, I survived.

Perhaps because of the possibility of sight-seers being mowed down by speeding cars, the original bridge has been re-created in a quieter and safer location. Deep in the heart of Sleepy Holllow Cemetery.

Where the greatest danger is being mowed down by passing joggers.

From the Old Dutch Church . . .

. . . to Washington Irving's grave . . .

. . . to the looming front gates, this cemetery is massive. Easily the largest I've seen. With hills and valleys and winding paths and mausoleums.

There are bound to be more than a few ghosts lurking in there. Time to begin planning an autumn trip.

visitors

2011-07-16T12:13:00.008-03:00

It seems I have some unwelcome visitors in the pumpkin patch. And they're hungry. Very hungry.

headless

2011-07-13T08:44:00.001-03:00

I have a deep-seated fear of feathered creatures. I wouldn't go so far as to call it a phobia. More of an intense aversion. The touch of feathers. The flapping of wings. The quick, arbitrary head movements. Creepy. I've long tried to isolate the origin of this aversion. And I believe I have found it.

I lived for the first thirteen years of my life on what had been a farm. In a sense, it still was. Barns were still standing. Although many of them were rapidly falling into disrepair. Empty shells of their former selves. The days of the property's existence as a real farm, however, were over. They had ended with the death of my grandfather, two years before I was born.

The last animals to go were the chickens. I can remember the chickens. I can remember the barn they called home and the nests on which they sat. And while I would like to recall wonderful early childhood memories of feeding chickens and collecting eggs, it would be far from the truth. Instead, the memories I have of our chickens are traumatic ones. It would have been horrific enough just to bear witness to the headless bodies of chickens being brought into our house to have their feathers plucked. (I shudder to think of what I ate for dinner those nights). But the horror didn't end there.

The barn in which they lived was behind our house. Past the garage and across a small field. Easily within sight of the house. Not far. As a small child, I walked past the barn often. Even wandered inside occasionally. I watched the chickens as they sat on their long narrow nests. Clucking softly. Alas, they were not always so calm. So settled. So non-threatening.

I might have been standing just outside the barn door that day. I might have been simply walking past. I don't recall. I only recall that, suddenly, the barn door flew open and a horde of chickens rushed out. Obviously delighted to be outside. Free. Unsure where to run first. And run they did. All around me. I was surrounded within seconds. And I was terrified. Everywhere I turned, the creatures were there. Moving awkwardly. Clucking noisily. Flapping their feathery wings. Pecking for food. Seemingly oblivious to my presence. I couldn't move without brushing against them. Without feeling their thick feathery bodies pressing against me. I could see no means of escape. Except to push through a sea of chickens.

I eventually got past the chickens. But I have never gotten past the trauma. The touch of birds' feathers. The sudden gawky movements of their heads. The sound of flapping wings. All of these profoundly disturb me. I have been able to repress my fear over the years. Through careful avoidance. And by ensuring that any chicken I encounter no longer bears any resemblance to the terrifying creatures of my childhood.

But when I saw this article on one of my new favourite websites, it all came flooding back. This is true horror. Mike. Mike is the face (or in his case, the headless body) of fear. I may not sleep for a week.

antidote

2011-07-10T11:20:00.001-03:00

After all the complaining I've done about the cold, wet, miserable spring and early summer we've had, I'm happy to say that the weather has done a complete reversal. The past week has been almost unbearably hot and humid. So I still get to complain about the summer weather, just for different reasons.

And the perfect antidote to all this heat and humidity?

A journey to Michaels to wander through their emerging autumn merchandise.

So far, it still appears that glitter will be dominant this season. But there also appears to be an abundance of feathers . . .

maybe He won't notice

2011-07-05T21:12:00.003-03:00

It's not that things don't look promising in the pumpkin patch. They do. Eight plants have sprouted and they look healthy. I have every reason to feel optimistic.

But then . . . I was at my local garden centre on the weekend. Taking advantage of some discounts. And I saw them. There on the vegetable shelf. Between the tomato plants and the summer squash. A few remaining pumpkin plants. A bit tired and pale. But certainly capable of surviving. Maybe even thriving. I had seen them earlier in the season of course. When they were more plentiful. But I passed them by then, preferring to begin this year's pumpkin adventure directly from seed.

Now, however, I began to have second thoughts. They appeared to have a head start on the recently sprouted plants in my yard. It wouldn't hurt to buy a few. For added variety. And to increase my chances of pumpkin success. They were smaller varieties. But then again, my "large" pumpkins didn't grow particularly large last year. So four new plants accompanied me home.

I hope the Great Pumpkin doesn't interpret this as a lack of sincerity.

Happy Canada Day

2011-07-01T23:49:00.000-03:00

So early this morning, I went down to a park near my house for some free pancakes. Because there's no better way to begin Canada Day than with pancakes. Especially free pancakes.

And as I sat there in the sunshine, devouring their maple syrup-soaked goodness, I spotted something off in the distance.

A new attraction this year. Bright and shiny and colourful. It warmed my heart.

Nothing says "Happy Canada Day" like shrunken heads and werewolves.

they're alive . . . aliiiive!

2011-06-28T21:36:00.000-03:00

Despite a ridiculous amount of rain (or maybe because of it) several pumpkin plants have emerged and are looking quite sturdy.

Fingers are crossed for a successful year.

Dr. Franklin's brilliant idea

2011-06-26T11:06:00.005-03:00

Still on the subject of the miserable summer weather (it's cloudy and drizzly yet again today), I got to thinking. Wouldn't it be nice to have one's own weather control device? Something to make the sun shine when you wished. The rain fall when you wished (preferably overnight). The crisp breezes of autumn arrive when you wished.

Much like the device invented by that OSI outcast of the 70's: Dr. Franklin. Of course, I would use my weather control device only for good. Never for evil. And I wouldn't build any Fembots.

Unless it was close to Halloween.

horror of party beach

2011-06-25T08:27:00.004-03:00

It has been an unusually cold and wet spring and early summer. Complaints about the miserable weather have been emanating from all directions. Farmers have had to delay planting many crops. Shorts-and-T-shirt days have been few. And with July just days away, the water is still too cold to even consider swimming.

But perhaps it's time to push aside the negativity and focus on the positive.

Perhaps it's a good thing that it's too cold for the beach.

blank canvases

2011-06-16T06:34:00.000-03:00

I took advantage of last weekend's sunshine to venture out onto the deck/workshop and begin to play with cheesecloth and glue. And I'm glad I did. Because Sunday night, the rain began again, and it still hasn't stopped. Although sunshine has been promised for later today.

On a brighter, and drier, note, I have four blank canvases of cheesecloth mache ready to be built upon.

farewell procrastination

2011-06-12T07:29:00.003-03:00

I've got a bottle of glue. I've got sunshine on the deck. I've got a gentle breeze blowing.

The workshop is open for the season.

return of the spiders

2011-06-08T07:15:00.002-03:00

I've noticed that clusters of spider eggs around the outside of my house have begun hatching. Welcome back, my friends. Welcome back.

visions of vertical pumpkins

2011-06-05T19:21:00.001-03:00

Today is the day. The day on which I embark upon my third consecutive year of pumpkin gardening. Admittedly, June 5th is a late start. But it's been a late spring. A cold spring. And I wanted to be sure the threat of frost had truly passed. I take no chances with my pumpkin seeds.

Anyone familiar with the often tragic tale of my pumpkin-growing adventures will recall that the first year was an unmitigated failure. With lovely flowers, but no lovely pumpkins. Zero pumpkins.

Then, last year, in a determined effort to learn from my mistakes, I moved the location of my pumpkin crop from the back yard to the front yard. Where it would have the benefit of more sunshine. And the benefit of an exceptionally warm and sunny summer. The result was seven pumpkins. Seven small pumpkins. But seven pumpkins, nonetheless.

The only drawback to growing pumpkins in the front yard was the way in which those pesky vines tended to grasp anything in their path and not let go. Including the grass on my lawn. I knew that pumpkin vines would spread, but I was taken aback at just how tenaciously they held on to the surrounding vegetation. I had envisioned simply lifting the plants and mowing the grass around them. But no. My pumpkin vines wouldn't hear of it. So the lawn remained unmowed for a few months. I began to develop a reputation in the neighbourhood.

This year, I am employing a third strategy. Hoping for at least the moderate success of last year's crop and a vine-free front lawn, I will be attempting to grow pumpkins vertically. Using my veranda as a support. I am optimistic. I have visions of thick, healthy plants and huge orange gourds gracing my front porch throughout the summer and into the fall. But while I've been assured that vertical pumpkin-growing is indeed possible, I worry that the pumpkins might grow too large and heavy and simply snap off before maturity.

Then again, if the sizes of last year's pumpkins are a reliable predictor of this year's success, I likely have nothing to worry about.

cake dreams

2011-05-30T10:22:00.000-03:00

Each Halloween, I try to create a themed cake. Something both creepy and delicious. I've been quite proud of many of my creations, although some have undoubtedly been more successful than others. Most notable among the "less successful", my werewolf cake, which more closely resembled a bearded hobo than a terrifying creature of the night.

But even those cakes that have turned out well have never turned out quite this well:

Thanks to the Bleeding Heart Bakery, I realize I still have a long, long, long way to go.

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