/*from pinterest*/
‘Tis Hallowe’en.
The lamp is lit,
And round the fire the children sit,
A-telling ghost tales bit by bit,
‘Til sister Jane says HUSHHHHHHH!
Back in the day, on the farm, I was the older sister who led my sibs across the Scane Side Road to our only neighbouring house on All Hallows Eve.
We spent a fair amount of time dressing up for this event: a witch hat made of bristle board, several paper grocery bags with eye cut-outs, lots of old clothes.
“What am I supposed to be?”
“An old lady.”
Preschoolers are always happy to dress up as old ladies. I don’t think we ever had an actual mask. Occasionally we borrowed the broom. Not a witch broom, a push broom. Nobody cared.
In the dark night of rural southwestern Ontario, we set out down the lane and along the road a little way, to Lloyd and Jean’s house. I remember the smell of corn fields, and shuffling through the maple leaves, and the wind blowing witch clouds over the moon.
Lloyd and Jean Reeves, a retired couple, had grandchildren somewhere else. They handed out apples and popcorn balls and cookies, along with handfuls of those caramel candies in the black and orange wrappers. They’d spend about fifteen minutes filling up our paper bags and pillow cases.
And then we’d make the journey back home, sit down at the big table in the kitchen and enjoy our feast.
Do you have memories of long ago Hallowe’ens?
And does anybody know what those candies in the black and orange wrappers were called?
jack-o’-lantern from photos.com #89680710