Deny, perhaps, but don’t Delay

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If you find yourself with nothing better to do this weekend than staring longingly at that bowl of candy you’ve purchased (so as to beat the crowds, wink wink) or you’ve done your pumpkin shopping early and while the lure of freshly roasted pumpkin seeds is calling, you know you must stay your knife-hand another 13 days and you find the hours in between now and then taxing your patience to its limits, stress no more!  Take up your writing/drawing implement of choice, scour your abode for an envelope of any size, fix yourself in a comfortable chair at your favorite kneehole desk, play some apropos music and muster imaginings of “uncomfortable creatures” and draw!  Why? Well, why not? If you require further prompting, consider this:

2019 Halloween Envelope Art Contest

Deadline: Postmark by Monday, October 21st, 2019

For an entry form, click any pic for link to contest page.

The Edward Gorey House is now accepting original artwork from artists of all ages for their 2019 Halloween Envelope Art Contest. An Edward Gorey-inspired decorated envelope decorated with the theme of Uncomfortable Creatures is what they are looking for this year. There is no entry fee and not a particularly big prize but winning entries, runners up, and very-close-to- being -runners up will all be displayed in the Edward Gorey House, on their website, and on their Facebook page. Winners will be notified and results will be announced on Wednesday, 10/31/19.

Mail entries to:

Edward Gorey House
8 Strawberry Lane
Yarmouth Port, MA 02675
USA

Tell your friends!

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…..and perhaps these images of past submissions will help you along, mind that deadline ;)

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A Hundred Eve’s

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Sometimes it can feel like Halloween is just around the corner, sometimes it can feel like a long walk just begun.  I feel that now as the warm weather beats down and the feeling of a cool breeze is just a memory from a long-ago winter.  Wait.  What is that I see in the distance?  It beckons and guides me.  It flits about in the wilderness.  A lightning bug? Some phosphorescent lichen?  The glowing form of some ancient wood dweller?  Hmm.  I don’t know what it is but I will keep heading towards it.  The light is a wonder, a bedevilment, an enchantment of the senses.  I yearn to be surrounded by such a light and I will gladly endure a hundred eves to get to where it awaits me.  I will wait for you there.

 

Image – Artist unknown.

Minutes til Midnight

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I am watching my clock countdown the minutes until this 31st dwindles down to moments and memories.  There were a few memorable quirks to the day and the evening, I hope you can all say the same.  As the tomb shuts on this Hallow’s Eve, I draw a final breath of cinnamon stick candle wafting up from the scorched insides of gutted gourds, I gather the crinkled remains of candy skins in their bright coverings shriveled and torn, destined for the recycle bin, and take a long last look up and down the street as porch lights dim, jackos darken and light shows blink and die.  I sigh, shrug my shoulders, turn and close the door behind me.  The house goes dark and here I am at the keyboard…already thinking about Halloween 2018 – I wonder what that escapade will reveal?  So much to plan and plot and ply, as the season passes by…so quickly, much too quickly this year.  Thanks to all of you who stopped to look around this blog, more thanks to Countdown to Halloween for highlighting another great batch of blogs this year, always so much fun to see what others are up to.  I will poke through the leftover candy and ponder…mmmmm….Junior Mints! Rest In Peace Halloween 2017.  I will remember you fondly.

 

 

 

Mirth and Musings Part 16

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I am encountering a rise in anticipation as the Eve approaches and I find that anticipation can quickly turn to anxious knots as preparations progress.  Still its not without merit as I liken it to the same apprehension I would feel venturing out into the darkness, drawn towards the smoky lights of flickering jack-o-lanterns, the more ambitious smoke and mirrors of yard haunts, even the rather mundane porch light.  In my day (yes, I am that old) we left the house in our made up costumes, lucky enough when Mom took a hand, and with just a group of friends with hands grasping well worn pillowcases, brown paper bags or the (dare to dream) printed plastic shopping bag, with its colorful Halloween images, take ourselves off into the unknown.  This New Yorker Magazine cover by Abe Birnbaum is a wonderful image of a group of friends heading out along well worn or maybe undiscovered paths on that annual candy rite of passage.  Certainly the prospect of free candy had its merits, but I think it was the absence of adult supervision that really appealed to me.  We could go anywhere – talk to anyone – take part in mazes and haunted garages and plans and plots for short-cuts to far off neighborhoods we only really saw from the school bus windows.  It was a no holds barred aberration of rules, instead of being home before the street lights came on we made our way through the darkness to those elusive flickering lights of yards and doorways, instead of making certain we were dressed appropriately for our destination we chose the rattiest or gaudiest draping we could find to deck ourselves out to fit our idea of “witch” or “ghoul” or “Batman” or “princess” and instead of being told we couldn’t have one more piece of candy, we could gorge as we went along, sure in the knowledge of one more street to plunder before the porches went dark.  Sigh.  So despite the hype of candy checking and actual horror of “trunk o treating” I extend my heartfelt appreciation to those of you still doing it the old fashioned way on both sides of the door.  To you Trick or Treaters and Haunters everywhere making the journey and the destination equally worthwhile.

Moonlit Revel

This one I will preface by saying you may have noticed in my header the lines from a poem that I change occasionally.  I post it here in its complete form, I hope you enjoy it.  The work was inspired by this stamp image that I once purchased after customizing with a line from my poem.  I am getting these again this year for my Halloween invites, you can purchase by the sheet, these are a great product offered by Zazzle.com go online and pick and choose and edit to your hearts desire.  Can’t wait to use these again. Enjoy!

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“Stroll with me beneath the Moon,

for surely They’ll be coming soon

to share with us the deepening gloom,

that must be Halloween.

Fellow Revelers walk this Night,

as They awake from yearly plight

deprived til now of sweet delight,

that must be Halloween.

Mischievousness the only goal,

for these few hours on parole.

And none but They could be so droll

that must be Halloween.

Sorry am I that They must wait,

upon the Eve to cross the gait.

Alas that is Their yearly Fate,

that must be Halloween.

All too soon the Night will fade,

and All shall pass into the Shade

to wait upon the next parade,

that must be Halloween.

Perhaps you’ll stroll with me once more,

when Gate stands wide and Spirits tour.

No other sight stir’s my hearts core,

that must be Halloween.”

-AE

Autumn Eyes

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From earth fog will rise

Prospects awaiting

Seen through autumn eyes

 

Cunning and patient

While folly foils fear

Silently stalwart

As hot breath draws near

 

Wind winds the cornstalks

A deep throaty hiss

Blackbirds go silent

A sign alls amiss

 

Ripe rabble en route

Yet focused on farce

Caught within whirlwind

Too beguiled to parse

 

Soon passing threshold

Point of no return

Eyes glowing hotter

Revealing the yearn

 

Rustling unbidden

And shifts unexplained

Imminent movement

From malice unchained

 

Traversing corn maze

Dupes still unaware

As soon all succumb

To Halloweens scare

- by A.E. October, 2016

Nothing grim about this…

Rogers Gardens has announced their annual Halloween Boutique Opening “Grimm Tales” will debut on Friday, September 2nd @ 9:00am!  Visiting this amazing boutique yearly has become a favorite for me and I hope you find time to stop by, it will not disappoint.

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“…and the Storyteller paused…
and it was as if the wonders he retold had cast a spell upon him…”-A.E.

“The forest is dark and enchanted…branches creak and leaves rustle as trees close in, obscuring the path home.  Wander deep into the shadows and you’ll find frightful folklores, fantastical stories and chilling tales.  These bedtime stories will give you nightmares, and you’ll discover that not all fairy tales end happily-ever-after.” –Rogers Gardens

 

Mirth and Musings Part 7

The weather here on the west coast is definitely Fall-like at last, chill temperatures and brisk gusts of wind remind me of why I prefer this time of year.  Time to break out the scarves and mittens, flannels and fuzzy slippers.  Just to make cozying up that much more enjoyable.  The approaching Thanksgiving holiday makes me pause and reflect, as I still see pumpkins decorating porches and sills and tabletops.  We always save one or two from October to enjoy through November – a bright orange reminder – it’s interesting how the pumpkin, the idea of it, transitions from the herald of giving treats to the herald of giving thanks.  Many of us will close the holiday with that slice of spicy sweetness.  It’s a fitting way to bookend Autumn. Enjoy this New Yorker cover from 1973, a house simply celebrating the season.

New Yorker Magazine, Stevenson, 1973

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Boo

Standing on the step to receive them was an old woman, neatly dressed in black silk, with a white cap and apron. This was Mrs. Umney, the housekeeper, whom Mrs. Otis, at Lady Canterville’s earnest request, had consented to keep on in her former position. She made them each a low curtsey as they alighted, and said in a quaint, old-fashioned manner, “I bid you welcome to Canterville Chase.” Following her, they passed through the fine Tudor hall into the library, a long, low room, panelled in black oak, at the end of which was a large stained-glass window. Here they found tea laid out for them, and, after taking off their wraps, they sat down and began to look round, while Mrs. Umney waited on them.

Suddenly Mrs. Otis caught sight of a dull red stain on the floor just by the fireplace and, quite unconscious of what it really signified, said to Mrs. Umney, “I am afraid something has been spilt there.”
“Yes, madam,” replied the old housekeeper in a low voice, “blood has been spilt on that spot.”
“How horrid,” cried Mrs. Otis; “I don’t at all care for bloodstains in a sitting-room. It must be removed at once.”

The old woman smiled, and answered in the same low, mysterious voice, “It is the blood of Lady Eleanore de Canterville, who was murdered on that very spot by her own husband, Sir Simon de Canterville, in 1575. Sir Simon survived her nine years, and disappeared suddenly under very mysterious circumstances. His body has never been discovered, but his guilty spirit still haunts the Chase. The bloodstain has been much admired by tourists and others, and cannot be removed.

Oscar Wilde
The Canterville Ghost, 1887

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