Boo Yah!

When I was a kid, it was all about the candy. I didn’t play dress up, so my costumes were culled from the clothes rack of least resistance. The family didn’t decorate (few families did, in those days) and we didn’t carve pumpkins, either. Once I outgrew trick or treating (i.e, when I could afford sweets year-round), the spookiest night of the year lost its appeal.

Then I met Ter. Some of her happiest childhood memories involve October 31. She carved pumpkins, she dressed up, she read Tales From the Crypt; if it was creepy, ghostly or chilling, she was right there. (Ironically, she has never read Stephen King.) The only Halloweeny tradition we had in common was candy and watching Charlie Brown.

Over our years together, she has carved an annual jack o’lantern and done a little home decorating. One year I got an idea for my own pumpkin, so now I carve one, as well. We decorate for fall, and slip in a few spookables as nod to the ghosts. We’ve always lived in an apartment, so we’ve never handed out candy – the one exception being 2011, when we were briefly the sole residents of a little cottage on a shady street. Ter dressed as a barefoot witch and happily doled out treats by the mittful to an assortment of neighbourhood kids. I’ll always remember tiny little Layla, a toddler princess on her first trick-or-treating expedition, who was so dazzled by Ter’s costume that she forgot to collect her candy; her dad had to turn her back around so Ter could dispense the goodies.

Last year, we did nothing. Real life was scarier than the occasion could ever be – we had just moved house for the second time in two years, I was recovering from the worst cold of my life (until this year), and poor Ter was coming down with it. We carved no pumpkins, left the decorations in the boxes, and sniffled and coughed our way through a single viewing of It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown. I did manage to attend a magic lantern show hosted by our (then) new neighbours, and had such a good time that we were delighted to be invited back for it again this year.

Ah, this year. We’re both healthy. We’re settled into our new home. The weather was clear and cool, and the magic lantern show awaited. We stopped down to let the neighbours know we were heading out on a short flânerie, but would be along for the show, then we did what I love to do best of all: we walked through the ’hood, criss-crossing the street, sidestepping packs of chirping children dressed as superheroes, princesses, ghosts, goblins, pirates, vampires, Darth Vader and Jedi knights, mummies, teddy bears, ballerinas, witches, everything but the kitchen sink. I brought along the Canon to test its night-shooting powers, but mostly we marvelled at how some folks get so into the occasion that they dress up their homes as much as themselves. Truly, every kid should hunt treats in an old Victorian neighbourhood.

 

 

 

 

People turn their yards into cemeteries. They park zombies on the porch. Skeletons hang in darkened windows. Tortured screams and maniacal laughter drift through the thickening fog (yep, this close to the ocean and tendrils were crawling). The pumpkin art is amazing. Ter took me to what she calls “the magic house” – a stonework studio as well as a residence. The artist who lives there has created a captivating world of light and spirit that has drawn her there on foot since we moved here. The yard last night was … well, I took more pictures there than everywhere else combined:

 

 

An hour later, and we were cozied in the dining room downstairs, sharing with friends and neighbours the annual magic lantern show – glass-painted slides on a projector from the 1850s with a hilarious play-by-play from the presenter and colour commentary from the audience. We laughed and talked and had a wonderful time with warm and wonderful people. Last year was a boo hoo. This year was a big boo yah!