no tricks, all treats.

Hey, owners of dreamy rooms

and enchanting homes,

Can I stay with you for a bit?

all photos taken from the blog, rooms with views.

Get cozy, dolls.

It's getting cold outside...

mischief.

Thrice the brinded Cat hath mew'd.

Thrice and once the Hedge-Pig whined.

Harpier cries: 'Tis time, 'tis time.

Round about the Cauldon go;

In the poison'd Entrails throw.

Toad, that under cold stone

Days and Nights has thirty-one

Swelter'd Venom sleeping got,

Boil thou first i' the charmed pot.

Double, double toile and trouble;

Fire burn and Cauldron bubble.

Fillet of a Fenny Snake,

In the Cauldron boil and bake;

Eye of Newt, and Toe of Frogge,

Wool of Bat, and Tongue of Dogge,

Adder's Fork, and Blind-worm's Sting,

Lizard's leg, and Howlet's wing,

For a Charm of powerful trouble 

Like a Hell-broth boil and bubble.

Double, double toyle and trouble, 

Fire burn and Cauldron bubble.

Scales of Dragon, Tooth of Wolf,

Witche's Mummy, Maw and Gulf

Of the ravin'd salt Sea shark,

Root of Hemlock digg'd i' the dark,

Liver of Blaspheming Jew,

Gall of Goat, and Slips of Yew

Silver'd in the Moon's Eclipse,

Nose of Turk, and Tartar's lips,

Finger of Birth-strangled Babe

Ditch-deliver'd by a Drab,

Make the Gruel thick and slab:

Add thereto a Tiger's Chaudron,

For the Ingredients of our Cauldron.

Double, double toyle and trouble'

Fire burn and Cauldron bubble.

Cool it with a Baboon's blood,

Then the Charm is firm and good.

O! well done! I commend your pains,

And every one shall share i' the gains.

And now about the Cauldron sing,

Like Elves and Fairies in a Ring,

Enchanting all that you put in.

Black spirits and white, red spirits and gray;

Mingle, mingle, mingle, you that mingle may.

By the pricking of my Thumbs,

Something wicked this way comes.

Open, Locks,

Whoever knocks.

Act 4, Scene 1 of "Macbeth" by William Shakespeare

photographs by Marie Hochhaus.

I hope you all had lovely and haunting Halloween weekends, dears.

Mine was filled with too many cab rides,

too many long nights, and maybe

one too many surprises. 

Today was the new york marathon,

and feeling maybe too much relief to rid 

myself of the holiday,

I willingly trudged uptown for brunch with 

my parents, and an afternoon of a chaotic calm.

Photos soon to come.

x.

count down.

When they answered the bell on that wild winter night,

There was no one expected - and no one in sight.

Then they saw something standing on top of an urn,

Whose peculiar appearance gave them quite a turn.

All at once it leapt down and ran into the hall,

Where it chose to remain with its nose to the wall.

It was seemingly deaf to whatever they said,

So at last they stopped screaming, and went off to bed.

It joined them at breakfast and presently ate

All the syrup and toast, and a part of a plate.

It wrenched off the horn from the new gramophone,

And could not be persuaded to leave it alone.

It betrayed a great liking for peering up flues,

And for peeling the soles of its white canvas shoes.

At times it would tear out whole chapters from books,

Or put roomfuls of pictures askew on their hooks.

Every Sunday it brooded and lay on the floor,

Inconveniently close to the drawing-room door.

Now and then it would vanish for hours from the scene,

But alas, be discovered inside a tureen.

It was subject to fits of bewildering wrath,

During which it would hide all the towels from the bath.

In the night through the house it would aimlessly creep.

In spite of the fact of its being asleep.

It would carry off objects of which it grew fond,

And protect them by dropping them into the pond.

It came seventeen years ago-and to this day

It has shown no intention of going away.

"The Doubtful Guest" by Edward Gorey

photographs by aly chalk.

Things are getting spooky.

It's definitely Halloween time.