Allhallowtide

 Farewell Beloved October...

I did not manage that last post before Halloween that I had hoped. (None of you should be surprised.)

But, like Christmas, to me, at least, Halloween is not just a one-day affair.

And my belief/practice is consistent with history.

Many people think of Halloween, All Saints' Day and All Souls' Day as separate observances, but they traditionally formed a three-day period call "Allhallowtide."

Yesterday, November 2nd, was, officially, All Souls' Day.

For modern Christians, it is usually a day of prayer and remembrance for the souls of those who have passed on. For Catholics, it is primarily a day of prayer for the souls of the departed who linger in purgatory so they may be released and go to heaven.

For me, it was the day I hoped to sneak in one final Halloween post but, instead, succumbed to the crud.

{Is it just me, or don't those clods seem to have the faces of tortured souls or demons?}

Traditionally, and by many still, it is believed that on this day the border between the spirit world and real world dissolves. During this brief period, the souls of the dead awaken and return to the living world to rejoin their living relatives.

While the traditions and practices vary amongst different cultures, societies, and religious denominations, most all involve praying for the souls of the departed as well as visiting cemeteries to decorate graves with garlands, flowers, candles and incense.

{Gravestones in old Latvian cemetery}

Since I missed getting this post in within the traditional 3-day period of Allhallowtide, I'll spare you more history lessons. But, since I had a majority of the post put together prior to surrendering to a fevered 22-hr "nap," I'm still going to share some of my indoor Halloween.

This is a "Halloween Twilight" girl created by The Goode Wife of Washington County (the talented Stacey Walsh). She sits on a cubby amongst old Stieff black cats on the desk in my son's old bedroom (a/k/a "The Salem Room").

Her skirt is made of a waxed paper and has a little graveyard painted on it. A candle beneath her skirt makes the scene light up perfectly eerily.

An excavated 19th century bisque fragment figurine stands next to a small Turtle Creek Pottery plate atop old cash register number rolls: 

Moravian candle sconce:

Old pulp papier mache owl, antique candle mold and stoneware atop the floor clock:

The witch's apothecary cabinet is refreshed each year.  Another creation by Stacey Walsh (The Goode Wife of Washington County) - a little crow skelly holding a mourning photo - hangs on the cupboard side:

A small cloche with another excavated fragment (made witchy), a vintage tin and vintage "Witch" pins:

Many years ago, I purchased a lot from an old undertaker, including his reverse painted glass business sign. It has always provided the backdrop for my collection of pulp/papier mache Jacks:

Part of the lot also included this embalming fluid crate:

{This sits atop cabinets in my laundry room, together with some of my vintage "Shadowland Candies" tins.}

The glass dome sitting to the right of the embalming fluid crate is an antique embalming fluid funnel:

The added candle underneath welcomes wandering souls during Allhallowtide (and beyond):

An old ladder in the living room became a roost for a(n) (attempted) murder of crows:

Another Halloween cloche. (I've had a thing for cloches of late apparently.)

Although not visible in the photo, the vintage alarm clock sports a beautiful Halloween orange-color case:

{...and another excavated bisque figurine fragment made witchy}

There's more - apparently, I wasn't quite as far done with this post as I thought I was. So, I will end with these photos of my latest rescue-ee from The Isle of the Unfinished.  It is "Witch" by The Primitive Needle.

It was stitched on 40-count Endora (by Needle & Flax) using Gentle Arts "Witching Hour" floss.

And, yes, that is a real, taxidermied, Cane toad.

Be safe...stay well.

The Weight of Emptiness

 Look closely...there is something there.  Just a weathered shell now, but once it was full.  Full of joy and life and, yes, at times sorrow but, nonetheless, full.

There was a time when no one could imagine that it would be abandoned and forgotten...empty.

 Forever empty. 

This strange and wretched year has left me numb and empty.

In the space of less than 13 months, I have known more death than I care to: My beloved Snowdog, my precious mother, an uncle, two aunts, a cousin, a friend, as well as my sister-in-law's brother and my sister's sister-in-law.  

And, a month ago, my husband of 35 years passed away.

Things had not been well with us for some time, but the circumstances of his passing were horrific and something I still cannot bring myself to speak of.

Each and every one of the passings took a piece of me...especially Mason's and my mother's.

But this one...this one cut me to the quick.

Perhaps it was the culmination of it all...perhaps it was the circumstances.

Or maybe it was what was left unsaid and undone...and what was said and done in equal measure.

In any event, I am not the person I was, nor are there enough pieces left to pick up to put me back together.

I cannot put into words the emptiness it left me with.  It was like a cold, dark, shroud enveloped me.

The utter nothingness is overwhelming and has challenged everything I have believed.  It is a different kind of grief.

I never knew that emptiness could weigh so heavily.