These Christmas Wishes to you from me!
With every good wish for
and the best in the coming year.
with skin not unlike this,
only stench~green and not a gourd,
endlessly to Momsy, beggingly pledging that I would indeed make clean sheets of both beds daily, if I could pretty, pretty please exchange my Jenny Lind spindle for a set, if altogether bunkies I could call my very own, would be mine!)
My own devices, those of which I was left to, and I (above) would become close,
make do creative companions for forever and a day night.
That is until today, when a down~the~street tag sale granted me a lifelong wish come true! Merriest congratulations to me, O Momsy, as I soon will catch a bus to Linens R Us, or some other such specialty shop! Then, have a guess, please do, as to where I will be with an enormous bowl of popping corn and a stack of "Must Reads" just as tall (and mayhaps a butterknife to go with a dessert plate with a Bartlett middling it!)? Here's a hint from words I have quietly recited, over and again, beginning way ago:
"If you have bunk beds,
you might as well sleep on top!"
Image Credt: Mountained-bed politely borrowed from French Vogue.
"I invite you (The Witches Tea Party Under a Halloween Moon is open to all active bloggers, because the more the merrier the make merry!) to create a tea party to express and honor the witch in all of you. Whether you are an artful witch, a whimsical witch or a magickal witch (and yes you can be all). Your tea party can be fun and playful, sacred and soulful, hauntingly spooky or simply beautiful," she joyfully offered. Without a moment's hesitation, I accepted!]
and me realizing his passion for launching yet another of many novels with this, canonical phrase "borrowed" from Victorian purple proser, Edward George Bulwer-Lytton, opening his story in such an intriguing way. Eversincely, I have entertained the thought of some day making temporary use of Snoopy's eternal opener to unfold a tale of my own. Today be that dream come true!
It was a dark and stormy night... sort of.
*nervously struggling with a Truth~Be~Told on the verge of being confessed out of avoidability (as I will not sleep ever again if I do not spill!)*
Gemmama says, "To cut bread in an uneven manner is a sign that you have have been telling a lie." At this moment I am glad my grandmother is not present to hand me the serrated knife. For it is true: a fib I cannot tell (and get away with it). White deceits do not become me, and dark BIG lies neither do I wear well. They, inparticular, are oversize garments on me, whose disacorded darts are liked to misguided "shoots" of firework.
Thus, the Truth~Be~Told: even though this story's unfurl found its beginning late, late yesterday, it happened beneath showy, twinkling stars that brightly down~watched overly and throughout. Expressly, then, it was NOWISE a dark and stormy night...
Because it being Hallowe'en, I took advantage of the situation merely to be able to finally put this opening to my special good use, is all. Having that said, I am feeling better already! On with the party? LET'S SHALL!
At the stroke of midnight, sounded by Gemmama's parlored Great Clock, a very early brewed and very black cup of party tea was poured into a middlish~size bowl, where raisins, sultanas (golden rasisins), currants, and lemon peelings~made~candied would sleep~soak until plumped. Sametimely, Sun's up would interrupt their spelt~upon slumber, and I then did collander the entire lot, because there is an All~Hallows~Even tradition, Barmbrack, an edible~y divining tool that next I would bake from a special formula, that of
witch which I merrily share~ily! (Later this day, featured in the blog section tagged "Comments," below, I promise you my family's holiday receipt!)
Forever to our clan known as
because it is, quite frankly, "spotty" to the eye. Speckle Bread speaks of itself perfectly, and Celtically called Báirín Breac, this Irish fruited tea bread, that is nearly cake, is best served toasted with a smear of Witch's Frosting (softened butter) and washed with a cup of Irish Tea, typically on the day that is Halloween!
Most front forwardly, though, and of what I did make hints at priorly, Barmbrack is a delicious
fortune telling game, whose baker hidingly dough~deeps destiny trinkets and charms symbolic in their slice for those breaking this sweet treat on Samhain, and thus divines their future!
Once upon a time and waaay way back in the day, secretly planted bakery bits of silver and gold would customarily include a coin (wealth), a matchstick (to beat your spouse with --?!), a rag (poverty), a thimble (spinsterhood), a button (bachelorhood), a gold ring (marriage), and a pea or bean (once again with the poverty).
But whiles and whiles ago, Gemmama and her flock decided these antiquaited, if not downright nasty, predictors had to go. Replacing them would be a fun~wonderful slew of new charms with exceptional meanings:
[PLEASE NOTE: Pictured replicas only. Precisely posted images would adversely change the positive charge belonging to them.]
Forecast: You will join the circus!
Credit where credit is do:
Snoopy / Charles M. Schulz
Charms: Amanda Jo.com
Tea set / Hannah Stockham
Forget~Me~Nots / Glitter Your World
Mini Teacup Ring / LittlePinkBox
holiday party invite, joyfully issued to all by Vanessa, who hangs her pointy hat at A Fanciful Twist. Reminding her of my No Witch Left Behind Policy, because the more the merrier indeed, I then did boost the invitation: "In concert you and I shall enter 'through the secret keyhole' (Please to "click" and you shall come, too!) to celebrate this day of days!
From out of my grandmother's second attic, farback~and~to~the~right~and~left~of~Great~Uncle~Ned's~boxed~wishbone~collection trunk, amore~sprinkled, look~alikey witch garb in sizes BIG (Gemmama's!) and small (Momsie's!) have been borrowed and freshened! But lo and behold a bold fashion statement change, though, for beneath out pointies, Natty and I will lovingly plop old~fashioned, tribute bonnets up top our topnots, only to again plop, this time, ourselves in
(Most sincerely, its flavor is that of pumpkin orange
--and gold-threaded to boot!)
the parlor's favorite overstuffed. There we will herald in this festival day's frolic with a cozy reading of delicately penned in her own hand and likewise dotted with her soft~colored and charming teeny tiny drawings
Its breviary tells: Pumpkin Moonshine is a short little tale of Tudor's niece Sylvie Ann as she goes out to select a big pumpkin for Halloween. Sylvie Ann and her little dog, Wiggy, climb a hill to the cornfield where the pumpkins are growing.
They find a big one and start to roll it home as if it were a big snow-ball. As they head back down the hill the pumpkin gets away from them and speeds into the farmyard scaring some goats, chickens, and geese and finally, bumps into the hired hand causing him to spill a bucket of whitewash. Finally, Sylvie Ann's grandfather, who you can tell by his style of dress is a New England gentleman farmer, helps her carve the pumpkin into
They put a candle inside and enjoy the grinning face. Sylvie Ann saves the seeds and plants them in the cornfield in the spring. --LibraryThing.comOrangely primed,
And, yes, yes, a thousand times yes, there will be presents!-- Oh! Oh! OH! I MUST SCAMPER! Suddenly and follwing a knock~knock~knockity~knocking at my door, little footsteps are coming up to me! Natalie has arrrived! And if she does over~my~shoulder read this, much too soon she will get wind of the surprises: a paint box whose chips are chock full of Tasha Tudor~y inspired
Natty has yet to have put to parchment, waits wrapped for her in pumpkin print paper, as does, too, a bewitching perfumer of Miss Taylor Swift's