Halloween in New England

In the late afternoon sun, the path through the golden woods wound its way along, deeper ever deeper into the Autumn sunshine - what was ahead?

At last, a small country lane, leading somewhere. I chose to go left and walked-on ever further. I approached a covered bridge and remembered the tale of the headless horseman and Sleepy Hollow. But that was long ago and a quite different location, I assured myself. No such folklore here!

As I approached closer to the bridge, it was already getting darker and the bright autumn sun, sliding off to the west, would be setting soon enough. A Fall chill was in the air, growing minute by minute with the fading rays of sunshine.

I caught the distant scent of woodsmoke in the slight afternoon breeze- I was headed in the right direction.


Over the bridge I would go towards the smell of warmth and hospitality. Hopefully I would soon find a friendly hearth and some jovial good natured company.

Dusk would be upon me quickly and these woods were no place for a stranger, lost, cold and hungry. I must be getting closer, it can't be more than another mile distance, I assured myself.

Crossing the old wooden bridge, each foot step seemed to issue forth a creaking and muffled thud, announcing my arrival to whoever might be listening. The bridge smelled of musty dry rot and decay. As I approached the far side of the bridge I became aware of another scent on the wind - the autumn smell of wet leaves and dying vegetation.

Passing by an old cemetary in the fading light, I soon arrived at home.
Happy Halloween!

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A Dream Within A Dream

by Edgar Allan Poe
(1850)

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow --
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand --
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep -- while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?



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E.A. Poe

The Old Burying Ground in Salem

Below -Old Burying Point Salem Mass.






Depiction of a witch hanging at Salem Wax Museum


Halloween Festivities Downtown Salem





Salem Memorial to the Hanged Witches

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