The Neighborhood Witches
THE FIRST TIME we went to visit the witches, it did not go well. A few weeks before Halloween, we had gotten an orange flyer in our mailbox inviting trick-or-treaters to come to a neighbors’ house for “witches’ brew and fried animals.” Our kids were young enough that Halloween was akin to the Super Bowl, so they were excited about any opportunity to get more mileage out of their costumes—and, of course, more candy. My son, Austin, was an international spy with sunglasses and a bowler hat, and my daughter, Phoebe, was a Dalmatian with a polka-dot suit and floppy ears. They’d heard from some friends that the experience was a bit scary, but that was the whole point. The entrance to the witches’ domain (two doors down from us) was…