Haunted House, seriously.

 My sweetheart Stella crosses my path everyday.

My sweetheart Stella crosses my path everyday.

Boo! It's Halloween this week in the United States.

Ghosts, goblins, witches and slutty nuns make their annual appearance and way too much candy is consumed!

Black cats sure get a bad rap.

 

It's a time when the wind rustles through the trees and witches disturb the skies.

 

Witches are intrepid travelers.



             

            

But when I think of Halloween, I think of the home I grew up in. A proper haunted house with our very own ghost. No, really! His name was Barton Burchard and he had lived and died in that house. A recluse with a club foot, his only friend was a little white dog named Cherry. 

 My haunted house.

My haunted house.

 Odd and inexplicable occurrences plagued us for many years. Lights going on and off, dishes being thrown about, objects disappearing and strange eerie noises. Though you may not be a believer yourself, just ask our old dog, Toby who definitely saw something heading up the stairs one cold and rainy night.

Happy Halloween!