When I look out my window, many sights to see
And when I look in my window, so many different people to be
That it's strange, so strange
You've got to pick up every stitch
You've got to pick up every stitch
You've got to pick up every stitch
Mmmm, must be the season of the witch
Must be the season of the witch, yeah
Must be the season of the witch
When I look over my shoulder, what do you think I see?
Some other cat looking over his shoulder at me
And he's strange, very, very, very strange
You've got to pick up every stitch
The rabbits running in the ditch
Beatniks out to make it rich
Oh, no, must be the season of the witch
Oh, no, must be the season of the witch
Must be the season of the witch . . .
(Repeat, repeat, repeat . . . )
~ Donovan Leitch
So this song, which is categorized as "psychedelic rock," dates back to 1967's Sunshine Superman. Many of us thought that Donovan would be the next Bob Dylan. Alas, that did not happen, but I still like his stuff. And given that tonight is Goosey Night or Mischief Night or Cabbage Night (depending on where you live), "Season of the Witch" seemed an appropriate choice.
Whatever "psychedelic rock" is, it seems that this song qualifies. Why are those rabbits running in the ditch? And what does knitting (You've got to pick up every stitch) have to do with anything? Did Beatniks ever get rich? Really? The only explanation for these lyrics is a drug-infused influence. And since Donovan got busted for marijuana shortly after he penned these words, perhaps the psychedelia was prescient?
In my research for this post, I googled "witchcraft." Whoa! Go to the Wikipedia entry for "witchcraft" and learn more than you ever wanted to know! In my opinion, witches have gotten a bad rap, and I suspect you may share that opinion, too. For one thing, religion has never been a fan of witches, which is kind of ironic, since both believe in a spiritual world. Yep, witches are just all right with me.
In the video linked above, there's a bat circling the ceiling. So I'm going to take advantage of that to post a picture of the bat that I almost killed. (I would never intentionally kill a bat.) I'd become accustomed to bats entering my home up north, and I had a routine to get them out of the house. (The problem has since been resolved, thanks to my expert exterminators . . . and no bats were killed in the process.) On the night that I took this picture, the circling bat had awakened me in the wee hours. I did the usual: turned on the bedroom lights (they hate the light!), opened the door to the deck, and stepped outside to await the bat's eventual exit. Unfortunately, my ceiling fans were on, and the bat ran into one. He/she plummeted to the floor. Thinking it was certainly dead, I got the dustpan and broom out to scoop it up, taking time to snap a picture first, of course. But when I tried to scoop up the bat, he/she flew up to the ceiling again! The rest of the story involves me discovering the bat on my pillow just as I was getting back into bed, but rest assured, the bat left the premises before any biting took place.
But it's the season of the witch, not the bat, right? Well, you're getting a picture of the bat anyway. Now get out there and do some mischief!
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