A Local Farm, with Links to the Salem Witch Trials

Today I drove past Nourse Farm on Route 30, as I do nearly every day.  I stopped to take a photo of the decorations out front, a giant cake celebrating the town of Westboro's 300th Birthday and a sign advertising Farm Heritage Day, this coming Saturday.

Nourse Farm is a place where you can pick your own strawberries and raspberries in season (and buy corn and pumpkins in the fall.) When I have a party, I often stop by their farm stand to pick up one of their delicious home-baked pies.

I've also taken my kids, when they were small, to see the sheep being sheared and the wool being spun into yarn by the wife of the owner.

I wish the grandchildren were going to be here next weekend for the fun events they've planned.

A long time ago, I was told that Nourse Farm is one of the oldest continuously operating farms in the country, and that it was established in 1722 by one of the descendants of Rebecca Nurse.  She was the innocent elderly woman who was hanged as a witch in the town of Salem in July of 1692 and her courage in the face of fanatic paranoia was portrayed in Arthur Miller's play "The Crucible".

Years ago, when I once stopped at the farm store, I asked the owner if this was true and he said it was, but that when he was young, his parents didn't like to talk about it, even though Rebecca Nurse has been proved an innocent martyr by everyone, including the church.

It's an honor to have a place like this to show my grandchildren.  Whenever I take them there, they allow us to visit the horses and cows and other animals.  (Long ago I did a large watercolor of the two white horses who board there, standing in the field with the red barn and white house in the background.  Then I gave the painting to the owner and he put it up inside the farm store.)

I think Nourse Farm is one of the treasures of our historic New England neighborhood, and I remember the saga of Rebecca Nurse every time I drive by.

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!