A Cauldron Spells Magic
It’s the season of All Hallow’s Eve and a good time to celebrate the witchery in our heritage. We can’t hardly think of a witch without filing in the scenery around her—at the wall behind her leans a butcher’s broom with its scraggily tipi of twigs; nearby, a black cat or two curl up in a dream or two; and smack dab in the middle of the setting is the inevitable huge, black cauldron where the witch stands, mumbling something we can’t hear. We can see a pair of gnarled hands, gripped onto the handle of a well-weathered wooden paddle that she stirs ‘round and ‘round in the depths of her bubbling brew. What’s she up to, we may wonder. Well, a few years back I saw a cartoon caricature of a witch, who talked on her cell phone and made excuses for staying out of the public eye. She explained herself by saying: “Not tonight, Tony, I’ve got the curse.”


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