Bayside Cemetery: Fall

Ever since I went to Bayside Cemetery earlier this year, I've been thinking about going back. Bayside has fallen into disrepair throughout the years, and around Halloween someone actually broke into one of the mausoleums and stole remains—I promise it wasn't me. I first went in May of this year, and it was overgrown with grass and weeds. I remarked that I would love to see it in the fall, so I went on Sunday to fulfill that need.

I didn't realize just how different the cemetery looked in the fall vs. in the spring, until I looked back at my photos from my first visit. Everything is covered in piles of yellow, orange and brown leaves—sometimes I found myself hopping from one fallen tombstone to another like they were paving stones. Bayside isn't totally abandoned (we saw grounds workers in May) and new security measures seem to be in place since the Halloween incident (new barbed wire along the fence and "No Trespassing" signs) but it's the closest I've seen to an "abandoned" cemetery within city limits.

Most cemeteries I visit have noticeable decay and even the most well-kept places can't avoid crumbling stones or the effects of weather, time and vandals. The most interesting thing about the condition of Bayside is the amount of stones that have been knocked clear off their bases. Most of these stones are enormous—I can't imagine the noise they must make when they take their final fall.

I was surprised to see at least two fresh burials from September of this year, so maybe Bayside is finally getting the attention it hasn't had in the recent past. As thrilled as I was to be traipsing through rows of tightly packed tombstones and piles of leaves, I couldn't help but already start to look forward to revisiting Bayside in the snow.

Mount Beacon

Most years I feel as if I've petted fall to death before the first snowflake even falls, but this year has felt different. Maybe it's the consistently warm weather or the fact that a lot of the leaves in the city still haven't changed yet, but I haven't felt as immersed in fall this year. I mentioned before that this is probably just a consequence of living in New York City—when we took a hike upstate in Beacon, NY in mid-October fall was already in full swing.

Beacon is about two hours north of the city, on the eastern side of the Hudson River. The Mount Beacon hike that we took was about 2.5 miles total, which doesn't seem that far but it was a tough two miles. Our hikes are usually longer but we had limited time so my dude chose one with maximum impact in a relatively short amount of time. The hike was very steep—it starts out with 200 stairs—but as always, the view from the top was worth it.

Mount Beacon used to be home to an incline railway, which would take passengers up 1,500 ft to a hotel and casino. The incline ceased operations in the late '70s, but you can still see remnants. The casino and hotel have been reduced to their foundations, but I will immediately agree to go on any hike at the mere mention of ruins.

I definitely have something I call "exercise amnesia," meaning that I complain the entire way up (sometimes just in my head, sometimes outloud) and make dramatic claims like "I'm dying." But as soon as we rest for a minute and take in the views, I forget how terrible I felt and I'm ready to do it all over again. There's a specific feeling of accomplishment when you literally climb a mountain that is hard to replicate elsewhere.

Green-Wood Cemetery: Fall

I've noticed since I moved to New York, that the fall foliage in the city is slower to turn than in other parts of the country. Even just a few miles upstate can make a huge difference in color, and while most the East Coast and Midwest is at peak or past peak, it feels as if the city leaves have just begun to change. I've recognized this in past years, and by now I've come to appreciate the delay.

October is always my busiest month, but come November my calendar is always empty. I feel like I still have plenty of time to enjoy fall in the city, which is good since there is really no better time to explore—especially when it comes to cemetery strolls. Which is why, when my dude asked on Sunday if I'd like to walk through Green-Wood Cemetery, I said "of course."

Some trees were at their peak already, but others were still mostly green (and one hardy rose bush was in full bloom!). The colorful backdrops make for some really excellent contrasts with the stark stones. I'll never tire of taking photos in cemeteries, and they're the perfect place to really practice your photography—they're usually empty and filled with beautiful and stationary (or so you hope) subjects.

The weather recently has been fall at its finest, and it's already impossible for me to imagine that I was sweating though everything I own just a few weeks ago. I never thought I would have what I consider to be my "neighborhood" cemetery, but since moving to Brooklyn I've really come to cherish my time spent at Green-Wood. To be able to walk just a few blocks to a world-class cemetery is such a luxury, and I can't imagine every tiring of its beauty.

Conservatory Garden: Korean Chrysanthemums

Last year was my first time seeing the amazing fall Korean chrysanthemums at the Conservatory Garden in Central Park. I actually thought they were daisies at the time, because I know nothing about plants, but a helpful commenter gently set me straight. I was thrilled to discover that they're back this year—as beautiful as ever—and to be able to answer correctly when two women asked if I knew what type of flowers they were.

Fall isn't necessarily known for its spectacular blooms, but thanks to the incredible plant magic they work at the Conservatory Garden I've discovered that fall flowers can be just as impressive as the ones in spring or summer. I actually even think I prefer the chrysanthemums to the tulips, even if they're what made me fall in love with the Conservatory Garden in the first place. 

What makes the chrysanthemums so impressive is the shear number of them—I'm terrible at estimating things, but there must be thousands of blooms—buzzing with bees and other exotic-looking insects, spilling out onto the walkways and tangling with one another, positively bursting out of the beds. The effect is really something that must be seen in person to be truly appreciated, and I'm so glad I remembered to check in on them this year.

Last year's blooms

Oak Grove Cemetery + Lizzie Borden Grave

On our recent roadtrip to Salem, our first stop was the Lizzie Borden house in Fall River, Massachusetts. After touring the house we headed over to Oak Grove Cemetery to pay our respects to the entire Borden family, including, Lizbeth Andrews aka Lizzie. After being acquitted of murdering her step-mother and father, Lizzie remained in Fall River for the rest of her life and was buried at Oak Grove in June of 1927—her sister Emma died just nine days later and was buried beside her.

Oak Grove cemetery was established in 1855, and is a beautiful cemetery with many wonderful (and wonderfully-preserved) tombstones. The weather was full-on fall on Saturday—chilly, windy and rainy, although the rain was nice enough to hold off long enough for us to explore a little. The foliage in Massachusetts is definitely ahead of ours here in New York, and it was the perfect setting for a late October cemetery stroll.

The Borden plot has a main monument surrounded by smaller stones for each person in the family. As we were walking into the cemetery, a couple was walking out. The guy saw us with our cameras and without hesitation gave us directions to the Lizzie's grave (she changed her name to Lizbeth later in life hoping to distance herself from her notorious past). It was helpful, but it's also sort of a shame that most people only visit Oak Grove for its most famous resident—of course that's why we were there, but we spent most of our time in other parts of the cemetery.

 So many of the headstones that we found were so beautifully preserved, with intricate gothic lettering and symbols. Bundles of wheat, leaves, flowers, fruit, hands and other cemetery symbolism was everywhere we looked, thrust into sharp relief by the contrast of the weathering stone. There are so many different kinds of headstones in the world, and they're all fascinating to me, but this type of Victorian decoration is one of my very favorites.

 It did eventually start pouring (we briefly took refuge in the doorway of a mausoleum), otherwise I could have spent so much more time exploring Oak Grove. The cemetery is FULL of other Bordens—it must have been a popular name in Fall River—and we even found a few other Lizzies, who I'm sure have confused less-informed tourists throughout the years. I'm not against cemetery tourism for a specific grave, obviously, since that's usually how I pick specific cemeteries, but the real joy comes in discovering the things beyond the star stone.

Rock Creek Cemetery: Part Two

In addition to all of the wonderful bronze sculptures at Rock Creek Cemetery, there were many wonderful old headstones, mausoleums and other treasures. I love that no matter how famous or unknown a cemetery may be, I can always find interesting, historical or strange things to delight in.

I'm always surprised when I come across mausoleums that only have gates, instead of heavy stone doors. Rock Creek is close to Washington DC, but not right in the city—I think I'm so used to places like Green-Wood, which are very well-kept and buttoned-up, that it throws me to be able to freely see inside of any mausoleum.

We found a lot of wonderful stone sculptures to complement the bronzes, including a few men and a lot of really unique representations of specific people. The creepy nun was definitely a favorite of ours, and we ended up circling back to her a few times.

We visited Rock Creek in November, and luckily there were still a few leaves in their full fall glory. Of course I love cemeteries in all seasons, but nothing really beats the fall. The late afternoon light was just perfect, and I've never met an ivy-covered headstone that I didn't love.

In every cemetery I visit, I usually find a few things that really stand out and stick with me long after I've gone. I hope we're forgiven, but we cannot be the first people to visit Rock Creek and laugh upon seeing Richard Butt's headstone. I very much identified with the bookshelf stone, and I loved the scythe-and-hourglass-carrying angel that managed to be both ominous and beautiful at the same time.

But in between all of the wonderful sculptures and symbolism we found in Rock Creek, nothing will stay with me quite as long as the blue-eyed, plastic doll entombed atop a crudely carved stone, and forever in my nightmares.

Green-Wood Cemetery: Fall

Moving to Brooklyn has been wonderful for me in many ways, but one of the most unexpected joys has been my proximity to Green-Wood Cemetery. I've been there countless times since I moved in August, and it's frequently becoming one of my most-visited spots in the city.

We went on a short walk through Green-Wood on Black Friday, when the weather was unseasonably warm and sunny. I can't think of a better anecdote to the $10 flatscreen brawls at Wal-Mart than a walk through a beautiful, historic cemetery and you don't get any better in that department than Green-Wood. I've still yet to cover all of its sprawling grounds, and I discover new delights each time I go even in the sections that I've frequented.

Some of the highlights included some interesting stone inscriptions—"Mother and Sister," "Mother and Son," "Father and Daughter," and the heartbreakingly sweet "They Made Home Happy." I also found a funeral traffic cone, some wonderful worn faces, bricked up mausoleums and one very vigilant dog, guarding his owners graves for all of eternity.

I had a hard time finding any truly spectacular leaf displays this fall, but the best foliage I did find was in cemeteries, specifically Woodlawn and of course Green-Wood. The Japanese maples really came to work this year, and the yellows (never my favorite leaf color) were striking and seemed to hold out a little longer than everything else, which mostly just turned brown and then fell off.

Abandoned Rockaway Beach Branch

On Sunday my dude and I made the trek out to Queens to take advantage of the beautiful weather and hike through Forest Park. Neither of us had been through the park before, but I had heard that it was a great place to see the fall leaves. The leaves are definitely past their peak—one that wasn't great this year anyway—but we had an excellent day and the park did not disappoint.

Almost immediately upon entering the park we quite unexpectedly stumbled upon abandoned tracks running through the woods, and I was beside myself with joy. I thought they were subway tracks due to the configuration (they have a covered third rail), but they belonged to the Rockaway Beach Branch of the Long Island Railroad, and were abandoned when the LIRR went bankrupt in 1962.

The tracks are visible from a main park trail, and accessible by climbing down a slight embankment. We climbed down near an overpass that is covered in colorful graffiti and the ground was littered with spray paint cans. It didn't necessarily feel as if we shouldn't be walking around the tracks, but we did eventually come to the edge of the park and were stopped by a fence and some gnarly-looking razor wire.

The tracks actually look to be in pretty good shape for being exposed to the elements for more than 50 years. Some stretches seem as if a train could pass by any moment until you realize that there are very large trees sprouting up from in between the rails. Apparently there have been plans to turn this abandoned line into a park à la the High Line, which neighboring communities don't seem to be too into. I'm all for revitalization and preservation, but I don't think that every single thing in this city needs to be shiny and new. I love that these tracks are abandoned, but accessible, decaying but not excessively dangerous, a glimpse into the past—or our dystopian future—and a really great place to take a Sunday stroll.

Woodlawn Cemetery

On Sunday Jim and I made the trek up to Woodlawn Cemetery in the Bronx. Woodlawn is the very last stop on the 4 train, which is now significantly farther for me living in Brooklyn than it was when I lived in Harlem. We had tried to go once this past winter, only to be told the cemetery wasn't allowing walk-ins "due to hazardous conditions," (it was snowing, but come on).

A few weeks after we were rebuffed, I tried again on my own—there was snow on the ground but it was sunny and in the 40s—only to be denied entry for the same reason as before. I had successfully been to Woodlawn once (in the fall), but after two failed attempts I was slightly hesitant to go back. It's hard for me, however, to resist the allure of a cemetery—especially on a beautiful, sunny fall day.

One of the first mausoleums you see as you walk along the central drive belongs to the Woolworth family. I remembered it from my first trip because I've never met an Egyptian-style tomb that I haven't loved, and theirs is spectacular. Woodlawn opened in 1863 and is one of the largest cemeteries in the city. Like Green-Wood, it's a designated National Historic Landmark and is the final resting place of many famous people. We grabbed a map from the office and visited the graves of Miles Davis, Fiorello La Guardia, Duke Ellington, Irving Berlin, Herman Melville, Robert Moses (by the highway, of course), Montana "Copper King" W. A. Clark and Archibald Gracie, a survivor of the Titanic.

I've complained about the lackluster leaves this fall, but the trees in Woodlawn were really beautiful. The sunny, cloudless sky and midday sun combined with the bright oranges, yellows and reds to make the most wonderful backdrop for viewing headstones and monuments.

Woodlawn feels a little newer and a bit more grand than Green-Wood and there are certainly more mausoleums (up to $1.5 million to build one today). There were still some wonderfully spooky sights to be found in between the grandeur—an ornate, rusty chair, mourning girls and cherubs with their faces chiseled away by acid rain. My favorite though is Hattie, forever separated from her legs but still standing guard. We even found a mausoleum that was topped with a clock, which is not something that seems very necessary when most of your neighbors are no longer very concerned about keeping the time.

And speaking of those Egyptian monuments I love so much, Woodlawn is lousy with them. It seemed as if everywhere we looked we saw this wonderful style—slightly triangular, flanked by sphinxes, adorned with winged suns—probably a case of people "keeping up with the Joneses," or perhaps just the Woolworths.

Prospect Park: Fall

On Saturday my dude and I wanted to take a walk. Although it's already the second week in November, the weather still feels more like September. I've been commenting since the beginning of fall that I just didn't think the leaves were going to be very beautiful this year, and unfortunately I think I'm right. The leaves change in the city much later than I'm used to from living in Ohio, but I don't think we're going to get much of a show this year.

That didn't stop us from finding some trees in Prospect Park that actually came to work this year, although I think most might already be past their peak. Saturday was cloudy but warm, and just walking through the piles of leaves made me feel like a kid happily jumping into the huge piles of leaves my dad used to rake up in our front yard. We shuffled through some pretty beautiful spreads and saved a few of the better specimens.

I haven't talked much about my move this summer to Brooklyn, but I've never once regretted the decision to change boroughs. Sometimes I miss my morning commute through the park, but I love exploring new parts of the city and being so close to places I've always loved like Prospect Park and the Brooklyn Botanic Garden. It's been a little bit difficult to really appreciate fall this year when I'm still sweating in a light jacket, but I'm glad we got a glimpse of it before we're walking through the park in our snow boots again.

Sleepy Hollow, 2015

We recently went on our third annual day trip to the village of Sleepy Hollow—formerly known as North Tarrytown—which is located about an hour north of the city in the Hudson River Valley. Although Washington Irving published his classic short story The Legend of Sleepy Hollow in 1820, North Tarrytown didn't officially adopt the name until 1996.

The village is very small, but they definitely embrace its association with Halloween, and have fully adopted the headless horseman as their village mascot. He appears on everything from the street signs to the fire trucks, sanitation vehicles and police badges—even the high school football team is called the Horsemen.

We started off the day by seeing the Chagall and Matisse windows at Union Church, which is located in the picturesque neighborhood of Pocantico Hills, northeast of Sleepy Hollow. Photos aren't allowed inside of the church, but it's definitely worth the trek (we took Uber) to see the incredible glasswork by two insanely-talented artists. The Matisse window is widely believed to be his last work and Union Church is one of only three places in the US to see Chagall glass.

We wandered around taking in—and taking photos with—the festive sights, drank pumpkin beers and hot cider, took a lantern tour of Sleepy Hollow Cemetery, were scared and impressed walking through the creepy Horseman's Hollow and I came away with a floaty pen featuring the headless horseman—this is Halloween.

More Sleepy Hollow: The Great Jack 'O Lantern Blaze | Lyndhurst | Sunnyside + Kykuit | Sleepy Hollow Cemetery

Philadelphia: Christ Church Burial Ground

While Jim and I were walking around Philadelphia, we kept seeing signs for Benjamin Franklin's gravesite. It hadn't initially been on my list, but I'm never one to pass up the opportunity to see a historic cemetery, so we made sure to stop at the Christ Church Burial Ground to pay our respects.

CCBG has the distinction of being the only cemetery that I've ever had to pay admission to enter, although that wasn't going to deter me from visiting. You can actually see Franklin's grave from the sidewalk if you're totally against paying the $2 fee, but the grounds are beautiful and contain some wonderfully old tombstones (the oldest known marker is from 1721).

The first thing you notice about Franklin's grave is how plain and simple it is, and a sign hanging close by states that it was prepared in exact accordance with the instructions contained within his will. I happen to prefer the epitaph that he wrote as a young man, with its literary references and the line "food for worms," which I think is pretty much perfect in every way.

The fall leaves provided an excellent backdrop to the crumbling stones, and I've never met an arching, iron entrance gate that I haven't immediately fallen in love with. In addition to Franklin, the burial ground is the final resting place of four signers of the Declaration of Independence, the publisher of the first daily newspaper, Civil War generals, Pennsylvania governors, artists and several descendants of Franklin as well as his wife.

Triborough / RFK Bridge

Back in September, after a day spent exploring the always-weird Randall's Island, I made an impulse decision to walk across a portion of the Triborough Bridge (officially renamed the Robert F. Kennedy Bridge in 2008) into Queens. I happened upon a pedestrian ramp while I was dreading the long walk back into Manhattan, so it was by a mixture of exhaustion and curiosity that I ended up on one of the last city bridges that I had left on my to-walk list.

I knew from my exploration of Astoria Park that the Triborough Bridge would dump me out near a subway line in Queens but I didn't expect it to be such a harrowing—and at times truly terrifying—bridge walk. The ramp from Randall's Island was innocuous enough—enclosed with chain link fence and rising above and over the strange mix of industrial, athletic and mental health facilities that populate Randall's Island. However, once I was on the actual bridge it began to get a bit scary with the highway so close to the walkway, and cyclists speeding by me despite the many "walk your bicycle" warnings along the narrow pedestrian route.

Like the Manhattan Bridge, the Triborough has an additional chain link safety fence sitting on top of the original railing—that is, until the very moment that you stop being over land, and begin to cross over the Hell Gate section of the East River, at which point the safety fence completely disappears. I'm not normally afraid of heights but with speeding traffic to my right and a crazy drop into the choppy river to my left (not to mention a walkway with large gaps that would shake violently every time a truck would go by) it was a less-than-leisurely stroll into Queens.

Incidentally, the safety fence reappeared when I was once again over land, making it the least-effective fence I've ever encountered. The views of Randall's Island, the spooky Manhattan Psychiatric Center and the Hell Gate Bridge are pretty nice—even more so when I was safely back at ground level and finally reviewed my photos.

There are two other legs of the bridge still to walk (the portions spanning the Harlem River and the Bronx Kill) if I want to be a completionist about it, but I have my heart set on the George Washington as my next bridge walk—as soon as (or if) my Triborough trauma subsides.

Grace Episcopal Church Cemetery

A few weeks ago after my somewhat successful, somewhat failed attempt to visit Prospect Cemetery, I searched nearby and realized I was right by another cemetery. Luckily, Grace Episcopal Church Cemetery was much more accessible so I spent a bit of time walking the grounds. Burials in the churchyard date back to 1734, but the oldest tombstone I saw (or could read) was from 1740—still making it the oldest I can recall seeing in my exploration of New York cemeteries thus far.

The cemetery is small, but has a great collection of old brownstones (my favorite). There were some wonderful winged skulls, beautiful lichen-covered stones, and incredible script lettering. The winged cherubs are also wonderful, and although it makes me sad, I am continually fascinated by the decay process of crumbling stones.

I came across a plump squirrel who looked quite content hopping from stone to stone and I spent a great deal of time crunching through piles of freshly fallen leaves. Fall is the prime time to visit cemeteries, in my opinion, although that certainly doesn't stop me from visiting them all year round. I've only been to one cemetery when there was snow on the ground and it was really beautiful—I'll definitely have to make that a priority this winter.

Grace Church is in the middle of Jamaica Queens, which is a very busy commercial and residential area. In addition to being a major transportation hub, there are tons of restaurants, shops and other businesses bordering the cemetery on all sides. I doubt Elizabeth Ogden or any of the other permanent residents of the cemetery has much use for anything sold at the neighboring Hair Factory, but if you like to get your nails done and have your weave fixed after a leisurely stroll through a historic cemetery, Grace Episcopal Church cemetery has it all.

Fall Foliage

Although it currently feels like the arctic here in the city, and western New York is buried under six feet of snow (I'm so jealous) I wanted to share a few of the photos I've taken recently of the beautiful fall foliage. I always say that I love all the seasons equally, but if I was forced to pick a favorite it would be fall, not least because of the amazing colors that pop up everywhere.

Every morning I ride a bus past the northern edge of Central Park, and the colors there have been wonderful. I've been trying to get to all of my favorite spots before the leaves fall completely. The leaves turn a lot later in the heart of the city than they do even a few miles out, so a lot of the trees are still not at their peak or just now starting to change colors.

A few weekends ago I went to the Brooklyn Botanic Gardens,—one of my favorite places in the city—and last weekend I went deeper into the North Woods of Central Park for some last minute leaf gawking. The North Woods is the most rustic place in the park, and the part that makes me feel most like I'm back hiking in the Metroparks of Northeast Ohio.

I very rarely miss Ohio, but fall is pretty spectacular there. Although, I will say that the parks here have definitely exceeded my expectations in regards to all of the nature I thought I might miss when I moved to the city—and I don't have to drive miles (or at all) to see them.

At one point I came across a small pond and the reflection of the trees in the rippling water looked exactly like an Impressionist painting. Of course I'm very much looking forward to snow (hopefully piles, and piles) but every year fall feels a bit too fleeting.

Roosevelt Island: Smallpox Hospital Ruin

I've mentioned the smallpox hospital ruin on Roosevelt Island before, but I saw it again this weekend and realized that it definitely deserved its own post. Designed by James Renwick and opened in 1856, the hospital is currently the only ruin within city limits to have been designated a New York City Landmark (it's also on the National Register of Historic Places).

It definitely is a ruin—portions of the exterior walls have collapsed over the years and there is not much interior to speak of (trees appear to be growing inside), but there is enough of the original Gothic Revival structure to make a huge impact. There is ivy climbing over the crumbling walls and when I went on Sunday I was pleased to discover that it had turned bright red, upping the creep factor even more. There is a fence around the entire ruin, and stabilizing structures throughout, but I love that something like this still exists in any form.

Roosevelt Island—formerly known as Blackwell's Island or Welfare Island—once housed several hospitals, a prison and the New York City Lunatic Asylum (now luxury condos, groan) and was basically a receptacle for all of the city's undesirables. Today, there are still a few medical facilities but it is mostly residential, with a few city staples like a Starbucks, a pizza place and a Duane Reade.

There have been plans to further stabilize the Smallpox Hospital and open it to the public, which would be amazing, but from the looks of things that's still a long way off. In the back of the hospital, there are pallets of organized and numbered pieces—it always fascinates me how anyone begins to make sense of a building that has been reduced (at least in some parts) to rubble.

There is a little bit of graffiti on the walls, which normally I would be annoyed with, but it's kind of hard to be mad at the cute little ghosts that have been there since I first visited (also, the "RIP Smallpox Victims" is wonderful). I actually love this ruin so much that I decided to stay on Roosevelt Island long enough for the sun to set so I could see the Smallpox Hospital lit up and I was not only rewarded with a beautiful sunset but the ruin was just as creepy as I imagined it would be in the dark.

A Thousand Korean Chrysanthemums (That I Thought Were Daisies)

I was riding the bus down Fifth Avenue to work last week when I happened to glance up from my book as we were passing the Conservatory Garden in Central Park. I couldn't see much, but I saw glimpses of color and made a note to come back during my lunch break. I had been to the garden a few weeks back and marveled at the beautiful fall flowers in bloom, but this looked like something new.

I was completely blown away when I later entered the garden to find the most incredible array of Korean chrysanthemums I had ever seen. I'm not exaggerating when I say there were thousands and thousands of them (Lorelai Gilmore would have approved) in more colors than I even knew existed.

They were spilling over onto the walkways, pushing up through the cracks in the benches and tumbling over one another in every which way. It was impossible to be grumpy sitting on a bench surrounded by so many colorful flowers and I'm still having a hard time believing that something so beautiful can still exist this late into the season. The Conservatory Garden has stunned me breathless before with its tulips (first in 2012 and then again this year but I have to say that the Korean chrysanthemums might have surpassed them as the best New York garden display I've seen yet.

EDIT: Apparently these are actually Korean chrysanthemums, and not daisies (as I originally wrote), which was pointed out to me by someone on Instagram who is clearly much smarter than me. This makes much more sense, seasonally, and also negates my Gilmore Girls reference but I'm never mad when I get to reference GG, even if it's a mistake. It should also be noted that I know absolutely nothing about plants, which is probably obvious by now.

BOOzy Brunch

When I moved into my new apartment back in August, I knew I eventually wanted to have a housewarming party. I also decided that I wanted to have a Halloween party, so I decided to combine them into what I called a 'BOO'zy Brunch last Sunday afternoon. My new place is much larger than my last one, and it's so wonderful to be able to finally have more than one person over at a time. I threw two epic Halloween parties back when I lived in Ohio and it's my very favorite holiday to celebrate. I love the aesthetic of Halloween—skulls, bones, orange, black, spiderwebs and pumpkins everywhere.

I told everyone to bring a drink of their choosing, and I took care of all of the food. I made spooky spiderweb deviled eggs, breadstick bones, Jello worms, clementine pumpkins, hot dog mummies, ladies' fingers, graveyard and monster cupcakes and the most delicious (and simple, and disgusting-looking) salsa dip.

Probably the biggest hit on the table was the pumpkin who had clearly partied a little too hard. It took me only a few minutes to carve, a few more minutes to mix the salsa dip (thanks Francesca!) and it looked great. Every time I made the dip in the past, someone would comment that it looked like vomit, so when I saw a pumpkin puking up guacamole I knew I had the perfect substitute (am I the only person on the planet who doesn't like guacamole?)

The Jello worms, however, were a new addition to my Halloween repertoire, the thing I was most excited about, and a complete failure. From start to finish they were the most frustrating and most time consuming thing I made, with the least return on my investment. I am no stranger to kitchen failures but the worms were definitely the most mind-bogglingly disastrous thing I've ever attempted. In the end they looked ok, but of course no one ate them (does anyone really like Jello?) so I crossed them off my list as quickly as I had added them.

This was the first party I threw since moving to New York so my domestic Martha Stewart-y side is a little out of practice but it was nice to be able to share so many Halloweeny delights with all the people I love the most.

If I had to choose my very favorite thing about the party (besides all of the lovely company!) it would have to be my fireplace full of pumpkins. I saw the idea on Pinterest and realized I had the exact same fireplace that was shown in the example—non-functioning and already painted black. All I had to do was make two trips to the grocery store with my old-lady shopping cart, carry them up two flights of stairs and hope they didn't decompose by party time. A week and a half later they are still making me happy, even if I'm slightly terrified to touch them in case they really are rotting—my party might be over, but I'm not ready to say goodbye to Halloween just yet.