Ghost Upon the Floor

  

 Every October, I return to and linger a long while in Sleepy Hollow. The town, in reality and fiction and folklore, embodies the spirits of October in more ways than there are headstones in the church yard. Washington Irving’s story is, quite possibly, the most perfect ghost story. The mystery, the doubt, the fear, the urban legends— it is so perfectly the stuff of ghosts. 

 Tonight I went to put on Robert Van Nutt’s animated story book version of the tale, narrated by Glenn Close, which is such a perfect, and book accurate, adaptation. In the process, I found and rented Hobey Ford’s “Ichabod: Sketches from Sleepy Hollow,” which while a very short short, was highly entertaining and worth the one dollar and ninety-nine cents.

 I still watched the Van Nutt version, after. The slowly moving illustrations are the perfect, nostalgia-tinged way to experience the story, in as close a way to reading the text can be without reading the text. 

 

Next up we returned to Disney and returned to the village of Sleepy Hollow. Disney’s “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow” was made in 1949 as a short film, and packaged with the other, unrelated short film adaptation of “The Wind in the Willows,” and released together as one film, “The Adventures of Ichabod and Mister Toad.” In later years on television, they were shown separately—with Ichabod’s segment titled “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.” For the purposes of our film series, I watched only the Ichabod portion, which clocks in under half an hour. 

My last morning in Sleepy Hollow. Consisted of a few things. I had wanted to get proper photos of the Sleepy Hollow town sign, try and get as close as possible to the lighthouse, photograph another statue of Ichabod and the Horseman's ride I had seen the first night.

 It was cooler than the two days previous, but pleasant. Passing the cemetery again a last few times, I so badly wanted to go back in-- but knew there was no time.

 The lighthouse stands in the Hudson, looking neither very old nor new-- but seems perfectly suited for the waters off Terrytown and the Hollow. Because of confusion on my part and trying to find out more about the lighthouse online, I thought there might still be tours going on that Monday (though it was the Columbus Day holiday) but some more Internet digging showed the tours were done for the season. After some driving, asking a local person, and more driving, I was able to find a waterfront park that overlooked the lighthouse, almost directly. I didn't see the sign that you had to have a valid Westchester County resident's ID until I was on my way out, however.

 In the photos of the lighthouse, you can see the Tappan Zee bridge, some geese and New York City in the distance, miles away. The park was mostly deserted, dare I say ghostly-- and very relaxed. I could have taken photos there all day-- and, looking at how some of them turned out, I should have taken more-- but there was much more to be done before heading back home.

 I was able to stop by the village sign and snap some photos, and some of the local high school's sign (the school stands right behind the village sign). The high school who's team name, of course, is the Horsemen.

 I was able to find again the spot where this stone carving commemorating Irving's story was, by the front of the entrance to the "Horseman's Hollow" haunt. There is something small and serious about this carving-- and what struck me most about this was the decisive side the statue takes on the story. In the stone, which looks as if it would fit perfectly amongst the graves of the cemetery, the horseman chasing Ichabod has clearly covered his head with a sheet. One of the things I love most about the legend is that-- like all good ghost stories of its kind-- it leaves the reader, listener not knowing. Was Ichabod felled by the Horseman's specter-- or something more humanly sinister, at the hands of Brom Bones? I found it interesting that I finally really looked at this in the light of day. Here, it appears the sculptor believes the Horseman was not a ghost, but Brom Bones. But why, then, I always wonder, would Brom want to attack Ichabod-- after Ichabod had just lost Katrina to Brom? Did Katrina also reject Brom? Was Brom simply an insufferable bully? Or was the ghost real? For all its beauty, the story never tells you-- though this piece of art makes a guess.

 And so I left the Village of Sleepy Hollow, with one more stop to make it Terrytown before beginning the trip back across New York State, for home.

View my complete Photo Album here:

Leaving Sleepy Hollow

All Photos Copyright Bryan Ball Photography, All Rights Reserved. 

The street, the bridge, the church and churchyard- with the statue far right.

My full album of the afternoon (before the cemetery) here:

"It was, as I have said, a fine autumnal day; the sky was clear and serene, and nature wore that rich and golden livery which we always associate with the idea of abundance. The forests had put on their sober brown and yellow, while some trees of the tenderer kind had been nipped by the frosts into brilliant dyes of orange, purple, and scarlet." 

 -Washington Irving, "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow"

 While doing my cemetery photo wandering this weekend, which I am readying to begin posting tomorrow, I had the random thought of how much I wanted to read Washington Irving's original tale of Ichabod Crane and the Headless Horseman. Always enamored with the tale, the above passage struck me as so beautifully representative of the glory of this season we are in.