Which Witch is Which (and other Salem findings)

Our Halloween celebrations are in full swing and I am lovin’ life these days. It could be the cooler temperatures or the fun decorations. Or maybe it’s the parties, costume parades or the abundance of pumpkins for this pumpkin-obsessed family. And not to be forgotten is the emergence of my ghost salad tongs.

What? Like your mom doesn’t send you salad tongs for every season.

As aforementioned, Jamie and I went to Boston for one of the world’s largest pumpkin weigh-offs at The Topsfield Fair. He was as giddy as a kid in a candy storea grown man freaking out over big pumpkins.

And I’m not talking about the female variety.
I admittedly don’t have room to talk. I relished being in a region that celebrates fall and Halloween. Where every other house was decorated, pumpkins were revered and where Salem’s witch population provides for great entertainment.

Just so long as you stay on their good side.

Jamie and I stayed at Fox Pond B&Bin Marblehead, a quaint coastal town outside of Salem. Our first night, we really wanted some fresh seafood so upon the recommendation of the B&B’s owner we ate at The Barnacle, a cozy seafood haunt on the water. I am not much of a seafood lover but make the exception “When in Rome” and resolved to try some shrimp or lobster.

Until I was told that pumpkin ravioli with butternut squash cream sauce was the daily special. And how was it?

Think deli scene from When Harry Met Sally.

But really, the must-see destination for any Halloween lover was Salem. There was a profusion of fall colors, oodles of tacky tourists vying to see the sundry of witch museums and best of all, witches. Or at least folks dressed up as them.

More than 40,000 people descend upon Salem in October. My only goal was to buy something that I could display every year so I could profess we bought it from The Witch Capital of the World.

Easier said than done.

I dragged Jamie to all the tacky tourist stores and I was tempted by their wares but never swayed.

Until I saw IT. The bain to my wenchy…errr…witchy existence: a witch’s hat with flowing tendrils. It was like the Sorting Hat on Harry Potter. From the moment I put it on, it knew me and I knew we had been separated at birth.

Unfortunately, Jamie was not in agreement. Much to his chagrin, I insisted upon wearing The Hat the rest of the day and he had his own coping mechanisms for our new addition.

“Why are you not walking with me?” I accused.
“I am walking with you. It’s just far away.”

And so it is in the life of a witch.

Other Related Posts Readers Have Liked