Halloween Decor--Grins & Gore in Grafton

Living in our picturesque New England village of Grafton, MA, I usually make my Halloween decorations from the traditional pumpkins, gourds and cornstalks purchased at one of our local farms, like Nourse Farm in Westborough, which has been owned by the same family for 300 years, ever since their ancestor, Rebecca Nurse, was accused of being a witch and her sons left Salem, one of them settling here.

But Halloween decor brings out a stunning level of creativity and talent in our little village--for instance, in this Colonial mansion, right down the road (Rte 140) from us, which houses Bergeron Creative Studios and its leading creators, Al Bergeron and  Dara King.  Every season I eagerly await their latest brainstorm.  This year's Halloween house produced giant pumpkins.

 Last year's was all about giant spiders.  Whatever they do, their decor stops traffic and evokes honks of approval during the rush hour.

Further up Route 140 is a humble Xtramart Convenience store, but one of its employees, a young woman named Missy Vassar, so loves decorating that she turns the place into a veritable museum every season, using her own props, and her talent creates folk art, especially at Halloween.  But she doesn't forget that the store is there to sell, well, convenient products.

Inside there's a ghastly couple in the middle of the Halloween candy.

And three skeletons flying over the automobile products.

A one-eyed witch stirs up trouble by the Hefty bags.

A purple witch is pushing Pepsi.

A large spider hangs out in the frozen food.

The Queen of Halloween threatens.

A floating wizard has a soda can in one hand and a spider in the other.

An elaborate multi-level haunted cave has a skeleton Mariachi band which echoes all the Mexican skeletons I have on my Day of the Dead altar in my kitchen.

Last weekend I wasn't able to attend the Eco-Tarium's fabulous Great Pumpkin Fest, which includes  maybe 1,500 cleverly carved jack o'lanterns, but I'm reposting some of the designs from last year, for those of you who want to carve presidential pumpkins.

The jack-o-lantern I carved last week for Amalia (way too early!) has now turned to pumpkin mush, but by next Thursday I'll have made the porch into a haunted room full of bats and spider webs and hands reaching out of bowls of treats and a witch who pops out of a jack o'lantern cackling.

Two-year-old granddaughter Amalia, who's celebrating Halloween in Manhattan this year, refuses to put on any costume--it's all too SCARY--much less enter the Grafton Xtra Mart.  But wait till next year!