Reflections on Our First Yard Haunt
The two biggest lessons I take away from my first ever yard haunt are as follows:
1) My chronic illnesses do not care if I have a yard haunt to build; they will continue to rule my life one way or another, and I'm the one who has to accommodate them. I cannot fight a lupus flare. If my rheumatoid arthritis acts up, chances are I won't be able to use my hands. And blood cancer bone pain can knock me on my butt even if I have skeletons to bury. Trying to go against them means I only make myself more sick. I do not want to be more sick, or sick on top of sick.
2) It's okay if the haunt wasn't what I envisioned or intended. No one else noticed. Everyone else was delighted. I am my own worse critic, and criticism has no place in a yard haunt, as it should be wholly fun.
I abandoned the year one theme of "the move-in" when my RA flared and I lost use of my hands. Forget trying to build animatronics, I was lucky if I could hold a cup of tea without dropping the mug. My doctors were quick to respond, and we got the flare up under control (with a dreaded steroid) within a week, but that was precious time lost.
So I kept the haunt simple and didn't build much in the way of new props. Of those I did make, the two pumpkin totems were my favourite (especially the one that was a little wonky).
We hosted our annual pumpkin carving party the weekend before Halloween. That was the highlight of the season for me. We offered themed drinks, a fully decorated house, a Spotify playlist I'm rather proud of, and (of course) pumpkins in need of carving.
People and dogs (we are, after all, the crazy dog house and keep dog-loving friends in our intimate circle) came dressed to impress.
By the time Halloween arrived, I was relaxed. I'd done all I could to spookify our home, and our haunt had been delighting and horrifying our predominantly Orthodox Jewish neighbourhood for two months.
I was a little surprised and dismayed, as you might imagine, to glance outside Halloween morning and see snow. Snow began to fall at 5am and continued until 5pm. It took down most of our outdoor lights.
Between the weather and our non-trick-or-treating neighbours, my sisters and I settled into our costumes to await non-existent (or at least non-corporeal) visitors.
But then the most delightful thing happened: our immediate neighbours came to trick-or-treat! It made our whole evening, and later that night, when we went out to the local watering hole for a spellbinding nightcap and surprise burlesque show, we felt perfectly chuffed.
So here's the our first year. And to the magic it inspired. Now that I have a whole year to plan and build, next year's haunt should be even more spectacular.
We removed every trace of the haunt before anyone awoke on November 1st. It was here in full force for Halloween, then was gone the next day, as though it never was.
1) My chronic illnesses do not care if I have a yard haunt to build; they will continue to rule my life one way or another, and I'm the one who has to accommodate them. I cannot fight a lupus flare. If my rheumatoid arthritis acts up, chances are I won't be able to use my hands. And blood cancer bone pain can knock me on my butt even if I have skeletons to bury. Trying to go against them means I only make myself more sick. I do not want to be more sick, or sick on top of sick.
2) It's okay if the haunt wasn't what I envisioned or intended. No one else noticed. Everyone else was delighted. I am my own worse critic, and criticism has no place in a yard haunt, as it should be wholly fun.
I abandoned the year one theme of "the move-in" when my RA flared and I lost use of my hands. Forget trying to build animatronics, I was lucky if I could hold a cup of tea without dropping the mug. My doctors were quick to respond, and we got the flare up under control (with a dreaded steroid) within a week, but that was precious time lost.
So I kept the haunt simple and didn't build much in the way of new props. Of those I did make, the two pumpkin totems were my favourite (especially the one that was a little wonky).
We hosted our annual pumpkin carving party the weekend before Halloween. That was the highlight of the season for me. We offered themed drinks, a fully decorated house, a Spotify playlist I'm rather proud of, and (of course) pumpkins in need of carving.
People and dogs (we are, after all, the crazy dog house and keep dog-loving friends in our intimate circle) came dressed to impress.
 |
| Gemma as Elmo |
 |
| Fleur as a UPS worker and Ginny as a bumblebee |
 |
| Milton as Georgie |
By the time Halloween arrived, I was relaxed. I'd done all I could to spookify our home, and our haunt had been delighting and horrifying our predominantly Orthodox Jewish neighbourhood for two months.
I was a little surprised and dismayed, as you might imagine, to glance outside Halloween morning and see snow. Snow began to fall at 5am and continued until 5pm. It took down most of our outdoor lights.
Between the weather and our non-trick-or-treating neighbours, my sisters and I settled into our costumes to await non-existent (or at least non-corporeal) visitors.
 |
| We finally went as the Sanderson Sisters! |
But then the most delightful thing happened: our immediate neighbours came to trick-or-treat! It made our whole evening, and later that night, when we went out to the local watering hole for a spellbinding nightcap and surprise burlesque show, we felt perfectly chuffed.
 |
| Tiny Baby Bat |
So here's the our first year. And to the magic it inspired. Now that I have a whole year to plan and build, next year's haunt should be even more spectacular.
 |
| The view of our yard the morning after Halloween |
We removed every trace of the haunt before anyone awoke on November 1st. It was here in full force for Halloween, then was gone the next day, as though it never was.
That's part of the magic.
Comments
Post a Comment