inspiration

These past months have reminded me just how unconducive full-time work is to hobbies. And certainly to blogging. The period of time during which I was unemployed (or between jobs, to use a happier term) was a halcyon time for me (except for that pesky reduced income). Otherwise, my days were my own. My schedule was uncluttered. The possibilities were endless. Since my return to work, that hasn't quite been the case.

But as I struggle to bring balance to my life, I turn to the Internet for inspiration. And nothing is more inspiring than vintage Halloween imagery. In keeping with my witchery theme for Halloween 2011, I've been considering attempting to give it a vintage appearance. Emphasis on the word "attempting". Because my best-laid Halloween plans often have a way of going . . . awry.

the return of the witches

As much as I enjoyed last year's departure into a haunted garden theme, there was apparently something missing. Something lacking. Not in my opinion. But certainly in the opinions of my outraged family members and incredulous neighbours.

Because within the haunted garden, there was a dearth of "people". Humanoid figures. Standing or sitting silently near the porch, challenging trick-or-treaters to approach and determine whether or not they were "real".

In previous years, there had always been "people" in my haunts. Their appearances varied. Witches and grave diggers in the more recent years in which my yard had a theme; random werewolves and vampires and devils during the years in which it was simply an eclectic collection of whatever I could find inside my Halloween storage boxes.

So this year, in response to a combination of peer pressure and nostalgia, my haunt will once again play host to "people". Specifically, to Halloween witches. Because more than any other creation, witches were a mainstay of my haunts for many years. On the porch. On a garden bench. On the stairs. Usually constructed out of tree stumps and flower pots and dollar store masks. There was usually a Halloween witch lurking about somewhere.

And I miss them.

So this year's theme will be The Return of the Witches. But with a few modifications. Gone will be the flower pots and dollar store masks. And those tree stumps are getting too bug-ridden to be of much use in prop construction. So when the witches return, they will have adopted a slightly different form. I believe this is where my cheesecloth-mache experimentation may fit in . . .

settling in nicely

Well. The virtual ink was barely dry on my post about the results of the Wookey Hole witch auditions and the victorious Carla Calamity, when I received a comment from the new witch of Wookey herself! It seems she is wasting no time getting settled in at her new . . . cave. As you might imagine, she's been busy. Scrubbing out the cauldron. Stocking up on bats' wings. Taking down the previous resident's cobwebs. And . . . starting up a website. Fans can now follow the adventures of the Wookey Witch or join in to " . . . meet fabulous witchy folk and fans of Wookey Hole to discuss all things magical, from spells to witchy fashion. " I'm in. And I love the lantern.

and the winner is . . .

What with road trips and camping in the rain and attending scarecrow weddings, I had completely forgotten about the results of the Wookey Hole witch auditions.

Reports vary regarding the number of hopeful applicants who turned up that day: 300, 400, 500, 3000. Who knows? Only one thing seems certain. They all could cackle.

Potential witches were given only 60 seconds to impress the cave managers and the departing witch.

But in the end, as in Highlander, there can be only one. And the winner is . . . Carla Calamity (I suspect a pseudonym).

According to the Daily Mail, Carla Calamity (Carole Bohanan) beat out over 300 finalists to become the new witch of Wookey. Regarding her win, she stated, "Going from an estate agent to this is a natural progression I suppose. You need a bit of magic and witchery to sell houses." Indeed.

Photo Source

halloween for a dollar (plus tax)

Halloween arrives at Dollarama.

witch hunt

My job search may soon be over.

According to local legend, the original Wookey Hole witch was turned to stone centuries ago when a Catholic monk splashed her with holy water. Who knew it was that easy? A large, vaguely witch-shaped stalagmite in one of the area's caves is said to be her petrified remains. Making it the obvious place for a theme park. Eventually, however, the popular attraction needed someone with more personality than the average vaguely-person-shaped rock. Regardless of how impressive that rock might be.


Now, unfortunately, it appears that the current resident witch of Wookey Hole has resigned and a replacement is needed immediately. Making this the opportunity I've been waiting for. Wookey Hole staff say the job is straightforward: live in the cave, be a witch and do the things witches do. Okay. Sounds good so far. The successful applicant will also need to like dark spaces, be good around a cauldron, enjoy the company of cats, have a good cackle, and expect to be busy at Halloween.

So then, let's take a look at my qualifications.

I'm not afraid of the dark . . . most of the time. I've been told I'm a decent cook, so I'm sure I could find my way around a cauldron. And I'm confident that my faithful cat Lucky will provide a glowing reference as to my affinity for his species. I enjoy Halloween creepiness and am accustomed to a busy October. And I'd be more than happy to earn £50,000. Looks like a perfect match so far.

Interviews are being held July 28th. I need to practice my cackle. Now where did I put my Salem witch hat?

happy birthday

William Shakespeare's birthday is traditionally celebrated today, April 23rd. In honour of the occasion, a short poem:

from MacBeth

A dark Cave. In the middle, a Caldron boiling. Thunder.

Enter the three Witches.

1 WITCH. Thrice the brinded cat hath mew'd.
2 WITCH. Thrice and once, the hedge-pig whin'd.
3 WITCH. Harpier cries:—'tis time! 'tis time!

1 WITCH. Round about the caldron go;
In the poison'd entrails throw.—
Toad, that under cold stone,
Days and nights has thirty-one;
Swelter'd venom sleeping got,
Boil thou first i' the charmed pot!

ALL. Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn, and caldron bubble.

2 WITCH. Fillet of a fenny snake,
In the caldron boil and bake;
Eye of newt, and toe of frog,
Wool of bat, and tongue of dog,
Adder's fork, and blind-worm's sting,
Lizard's leg, and owlet's wing,—
For a charm of powerful trouble,
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.

ALL. Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn, and caldron bubble.

3 WITCH. Scale of dragon; tooth of wolf;
Witches' mummy; maw and gulf
Of the ravin'd salt-sea shark;
Root of hemlock digg'd i the dark;
Liver of blaspheming Jew;
Gall of goat, and slips of yew
Sliver'd in the moon's eclipse;
Nose of Turk, and Tartar's lips;
Finger of birth-strangled babe
Ditch-deliver'd by a drab,—
Make the gruel thick and slab:
Add there to a tiger's chaudron,
For the ingredients of our caldron.

ALL. Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn, and caldron bubble.

2 WITCH. Cool it with a baboon's blood,
Then the charm is firm and good.

the Easter witch

As Easter approaches, it's important to note that it's not all about fuzzy bunnies, cute baby chicks, and pretty flowers. Easter means more than that.

Because it's also the time of year when the Easter Witch arrives to dance with the devil, enter people's homes, and steal their brooms and rakes as back-up transportation. A centuries-old tradition in Scandinavia, children there also dress up as witches and engage in an activity suspiciously like trick-or-treating.

No mention of the witch showering people with eggs. But pictures don't lie.

which Witch Hazel?

I grew up in rural Cape Breton in the 1970's. Which means that I, and other television-loving children like me, had the overwhelming choice of two channels. CBC and CTV. And the French version of CBC, but that didn't count. That being said, two programs loomed large in my young life. The Bugs Bunny and Road Runner Hour on Saturdays at 6pm and The Wonderful World of Disney on Sundays at 6pm.

Years of devoted Bugs Bunny watching have resulted in the wascally wabbit's exploits being seared into my memory and I can't count the number of times I've watched him outwit or otherwise escape from poor old Witch Hazel.

From the first time he encountered her in Bewitched Bunny. Where Bugs was able to save Hansel and Gretel (and himself) with the aid of some "magic powder".

And later when he arrived at her door one Halloween night in Broomstick Bunny. And foiled her goal of being the ugliest witch in the land.

Until finally, when for reasons never explained, he was held captive in A Witch's Tangled Hare before playing matchmaker to Hazel and William Shakespeare.

Through the years, I never felt much sympathy for Bugs' broom-wielding nemesis. She was mean. Greedy. Cruel. Shrill. Not at all like that nice Witch Hazel in the Disney cartoon, Trick or Treat. The one who helped Huey, Dewey and Louie take their Halloween revenge on Donald after he greeted them with tricks instead of treats.


This Witch Hazel had a soft side. A sweetness. She seemed as though she could be the other Witch Hazel's hillbilly cousin. But I never suspected for a minute that they might actually be related.

But related they are. As I discovered when, like the Special Features addict I am, I absorbed every moment of the interviews and documentaries included with my classic Looney Tunes collection.

The story goes that Disney's Witch Hazel appeared on the scene first. Brought to life by the wonderful voice actor, June Foray. The story is well-known. Hazel swooped into Duckburg one Halloween night, stayed long enough to make Donald's life miserable (which is never difficult to do), and then she was gone. But she had not gone unnoticed.

She had caught the attention of Chuck Jones, who thought a witch named Hazel would be an ideal match for Bugs Bunny. And he asked June Foray to put on the witch's hat once more. She said no. Not because of any dislike of Hazel, but because she feared Disney would sue. After all, Warner Brothers was using the same name for their character, even if she bore absolutely no resemblance to her predecessor.

But Disney didn't sue. But not because of a sudden burst of old-fashioned Halloween spirit. No. Apparently it was because witch hazel is the name of an unassuming little plant and the medicine derived from it. Disney held no rights to it. Which is why witches named Hazel can pop up anywhere. Disney. Warner Brothers. Little Lulu. Tom and Jerry. Sabrina. And probably a zillion other places I'm not aware of.

So June Foray stepped under the witch's hat for Bugs Bunny's next two encounters with Hazel.

I think that learning the history of the Hazels makes me feel a little closer to both of them. Although if I had to encounter one of them on Halloween night, I think I'd prefer Disney's version. Altogether a kinder, gentler Hazel. The other Hazel would have me constantly looking over my shoulder.

I was reminded of the two Witch Hazels recently while gathering up my remaining VHS tapes and deciding which of them to part with and which to keep a little longer. While I own most of Bugs Bunny's run-ins with Witch Hazel on DVD, I'm still holding on to my VHS copy of Trick-or-Treat. At least until I get around to picking it up on a DVD collection. Or maybe Blu-ray if I wait long enough. Whatever I end up with, it has to have Special Features. Plenty of Special Features.

wychcraft

I was in the liquor store last weekend and as I walked past the wall of beer en route to the wine section, something caught my eye.

Beer is not usually my drink of choice. Apart from summer afternoons on my deck or the occasional evening in a pub, I prefer to drink wine. Or vodka. Or rum. Or Kahlua.

But I couldn't look at that bottle and simply walk away. So I brought one home. The label promised me "thrice hopped" goodness . . . a "pale golden potion with delicate red hues". . . "a truly magical brew". And while it wasn't the best beer I've tasted, it wasn't bad. Certainly a notch (or two) above the pumpkin ale I ended up with last Halloween. I think I might buy it again just for the label. And for the T-shirt offer on the back. Time to start saving those bottlecaps.

salem art

While walking through the Bizarre Bazaar in Salem last fall, somewhere between the souvenir T-shirts booth and the fried dough stand, a display of Halloween-themed art caught my eye.

Much of Maryanne Piro's whimsical Halloween art involves witches, with the occasional jack-o-lantern making an appearance. I was able to spend some time meeting and talking with the artist herself. And of course, I bought a few favourite prints, which I finally got around to framing this week.

retirement

Yard haunting is a relatively new experience for me. For many years, I lived in apartment buildings which had either no yard or one in which Halloween props would have been unwelcome. When I first entered the world of home ownership, my children were very, very young, and very sensitive, and I feared that the presence of menacing creatures lurking outside their front door might traumatize them for life. Sure, I could have gone the route of sugary-sweet Halloween decor: friendly ghosts, cheery monsters and the like . . . but where's the fun in that? So for years, my "yard haunt" consisted of jack-o-lanterns in the window or on the front step, along with the occasional non-threatening scarecrow.

Then, a few years ago, the Halloween stars aligned. I moved into a house with a great front porch, and my children were finally old enough to embrace the creepier side of Halloween (with the possible exception of spiders). It was time.

I started small, and as usual, tried to make something for (almost) nothing. Old costumes were called into action and the backyard shed was emptied of flowerpots, boards and various remnants left behind by the previous owners. But it wasn't enough. I needed more to work with. And then . . . good luck shone down upon me. In September, our region was hit by a Category 2 hurricane.

Among the casualties was a large spruce tree that had dominated our backyard. Down it came and its trunk was carved into stumps. Stumps that simply begged to find new purpose as the bodies of the witches I had been attemping to construct. They were perfect. And they had literally dropped in front of me. A few old cloaks and masks, and the porch witches were born.

(The early years.)

At first, they basked in the new-found attention, sitting proudly on their bench, grinning skeletally at passers-by, occasionally posing for photographs. With each passing year, they were joined by other . . . creatures. But they remained a haunt focal point. A tradition.

The haunt eventually grew off the porch and into the front yard and began to include more polished, more elaborate, and yes, better props. Still, the venerable old witches remained. Inevitably, comments like "Great witch!" gave way to "Oh yeah, those witches are there every year." It was becoming clear that the witches' glory days had faded and perhaps it was time for them to move on. While I certainly appreciate the importance of tradition, sometimes you just need to let go.

And so it is with mixed emotions that I send the porch witches off into a forced retirement, the first victims of my plan to build this year's haunt around a unifying theme (obviously not witches) and to introduce some fresh blood, figuratively of course. Retirement, however, need not be a permanent state. One day, in the grand tradition of Cher and Celine Dion, the porch witches may indeed return for a comeback performance.

(The witches in their off-season and now their retirement home.)

waiting

Waiting for the rain and wind to stop. These witches have been braving the elements on the front porch for days now . . . losing their hats more than once . . . having their brooms torn from their spindly hands. Rain lashing their skeletal faces . . . cloaks twisted round their withered bodies. Yet, they've faced these difficult weather conditions with admirable stoicism, gazing out into the distance, never complaining once. Unfortunately, I can't say the same for myself. I had planned to set up the remainder of my Halloween props in the yard on Sunday . . . but then it started to rain and the wind picked up. Not eager to begin my Monday morning picking up mangled props, I decided to wait and hope the weather would improve by Monday evening. It didn't. Okay, perhaps Tuesday then. Nope. It just got worse. So, I took a chance and set up my graveyard fence anyway. After all, I thought, I had planned for conditions like this when building the fence. Anticipating the howls and torrents that late October would bring, I had provided room for weighting it down. Surely, with bricks and large rocks inside the columns, my fence could withstand even this raging wind. Nope . . . I glanced out the window later in the evening to discover it had fought valiantly but had lost its battle. There is hope, however. Wednesday's weather forecast has actually mentioned the word "sun" . . . so I'm optimistic that the rest of my props will get to enjoy at least a few days in the front yard . . . and those witches on the porch will likely have some stories to share with their comrades.

crashed

One of several of those ubiquitous crashed witches spotted on a neighbourhood walk. Their popularity seemed to have faded for a couple of years, but this year they're back . . . "and in greater numbers".