Ghost Upon the Floor

 I give you, the true face of evil. Running through the cemetery this past week, I noticed how, on a hill where there are sparse trees, the leaves of the trees had begun to fall. Off there branches, crunchy, colorless and dead. Leaves with the texture of November, but without even the slightest hint of the deep oranges and reds the changing colors bring.


 Apparently, my area of upstate New York has been having the worst dry spell since the 1950's. Any threat to any part of autumn happening is an unspeakable horror, in my book. Think: Christmas being cancelled for a young child-- but one thousand times worse.

 I am hoping this does not go on much longer, and hoping that we get some much needed water pouring down from the sky very soon. We must have fall, in all its glory.

 It is July in upstate New York. Heat and bright pressure leans down, in a dry, lazy haze that seems to have always been, and will never go away. Engulfed in the summer now, my run this morning through Forest Lawn Cemetery involved pushing through air that has seemingly been replaced by raw heat-- everywhere.

 In other words, I miss October. I spent part of this afternoon looking at the vast expanses of my cemetery photography, and found this album I took last October in a small cemetery in a nearby suburb  which is not very far from my city, and not very far from the very rural area which surrounds us.


 St. Paul's Lutheran Cemetery was established in 1849, by the Amana Ebenezer Society. Some background on residents of Amana settlements. A religiously-based colony of people from Germany who emigrated to the United States in the mid 1800's, the Amana communities followed a Catholic tradition, and believe in peaceful, quiet work toward one's faith and values, rather than evangelizing the Christian Bible. With these beliefs in mind, the Amana or Ebenezers lived a communal life, entirely self-sufficient, until the 1930's. First living in New York (where this burial ground lies), they later moved mainly to Iowa, and have historically been mistaken for Amish peoples.

 Today, their graveyard lies next door to the Mayer Brothers Cider Mill and Store, an absolute and frequent autumn destination for yours truly. The red buildings seen in these photographs are the cider mill, where each September and October pumpkins adorn the decor, and the smells of cider, apples, pies and maple syrup carry over the darkening light and into the cemetery each October.

 In only mere months these photos will be a year old-- but there's a certain something here, among the orange and the falling leaves between the stones-- that help pass these long, hot summer days. When it feels as if October is so far away.



You may view my Photo Album of St. Paul's Lutheran Cemetery here:

St. Paul's Lutheran Cemetery, in October

This past Saturday, June 30, 2012 in a Big Lots store. In both the household cleaning section and kitchen ware. An autumn themed scented faux candle and a single placemat. Both of which I purchased.

It's been too long. Too long out from Halloween, and too long updating this blog. A few days ago, while cleaning, I found this vampire cookie cutter I had ordered off of eBay some time ago, when I discovered it there and the fact that I could no longer buy one from the manufacturer.


I paid more for this little guy than I'd like to admit (nor can find or remember, thankfully, looking back at my eBay account), but I know I'll have fun decorating his spawn sometime in the not too distant future...

Oil painting, Ray Bradbury

"'Mr. Moundshroud, will we ever stop being afraid of nights and death?" 
"When you reach the stars, boy, yes, and live there forever, all the fears will go, and Death himself will die...'"


-Ray Bradbury, "The Halloween Tree" 


 I last wrote about Ray Bradbury this past October. And how, as with each best and busiest autumnal season, I want to read the beauty of his novel "The Halloween Tree" yet again. From as early an age as I can remember, Ray's voice was one of the few which spoke to me, when he perfectly understood that which comes with the fall, and the Halloween season. As I've continued to read and reread him further into life, I find that, while perfect for youth, his voice understands and speaks to October's children so complexly, so personally, all their lives long. 


 This week, Ray passed away at age 91. The man who famously (and encouraged others to do so) wrote every day, amassed in his 91 years a body of work a canon all to his own, and one which I'm sure will cement him a giant in twentieth century literature. Working so often in the mixing genres of horror, science fiction, magical realism and all which lies between his many worlds, I know I have not read anywhere near all the Bradbury I should, or will. Among my favorite novels, I count the dark orange flickering lit jack o'lanterns peering from the many branches at the young friends in "The Halloween Tree," the threat of the deceptive, dark, weird and tortured carnival train bearing the witch and like wickedness coming to your small town with "Something Wicked This Way Comes," and the family of monsters assembled in "From the Dust Returned." 

Bradbury and family, 1958

 I believe we are all put here to, in our own way, beat death. The ways in which we do this so differ, but I know Ray's was all his own. With his words, with the enduring legacy of his novels and stories, Ray will forever live there in the stars. Cheers to Ray, and a life well lived, worked. 


"'Mr. Moundshroud, will we ever stop being afraid of nights and death?" 

"When you reach the stars, boy, yes, and live there forever, all the fears will go, and Death himself will die...'"

 There's nothing like a holiday to remind you of all the others. While the marshmallow treats we see only during October are featured in this very important video, some of them from this time of year, redressed for the darker day, do make an appearance.

 Happy Easter, from the Ghost.



YouTube User: SciFiClub

I apologize for not writing here as often as the Ghost should. I woke up from a dream last night, and realized that I had  been dreaming about this segment from Disney's "Fantasia." Not only is this piece a segment in the animation and classical music melding film from 1940, but pieces of the famous "Night on Bald Mountain" segment often showed up in the "Disney's Halloween Treat" specials I've written about before-- and, thus, the images seen in my childhood have forever been burned in my psyche.

 I can't tell you when the last time I either saw this segment or heard the music by Russian composer Modest Mussorgsky. Yet-- last night, I was dreaming of the big, dark, evil creature atop the mountain, and the lonely, lost tormented souls wandering the earth being pulled to his dark energy.

 Watching is segment now, I never realized the story concludes with the light triumphing over the dark with those of the light singing "Ave Maria." Apparently, the fascinatingly creepy images of a demon summoning skeleton souls rising up from the gallows made the more dominant impression on my child self than the portion's conclusion. And also apparently, if I am dreaming of these skeleton horses and their grim-reaper riders, I need more Halloween in my life; if these pictures which so interested me and I so loved from the moment I first met them are rising from my sub-conscious to visit me at night.