Countdown to Halloween (Minus 1) - The Spooky Castle

Now that Halloween is over, we still have to celebrate El Dias de los Muertos (the Days of the Dead). Granted most of them are past (the days, not the Dead. Ha! I kill me!) but we still have today! So with that in mind, I bring you the above pictured castle. Okay, I didn't go there. I mean they wouldn't let me in, but the goatmother and the goatfather went. You see the goatmother has this idea that every year, during the Halloween season, everyone ought to do something at least a little spooky. Hence a visit to the place you see pictured above. This is the Manresa Castle in Port Townsend, and yes, it is purported to be, you guessed it, haunted. ooooooooooooooooooo!

Of course I could spend a lot of my Peanut-eating time telling you about the history of this establishment, but it is so much easier to just send you here. Naturally the history doesn't tell you anything about it being haunted, but I assure you it is written up in many books on the paranormal. It is now a hotel, and contains an excellent restaurant (even though, as far as I know, they do not serve any Peanut dishes. They do serve a most delicious salad featuring strawberries, spinach, baked garlic, nuts and fabulous little fried goat cheese medallions.).

So, this is where the goatmother and the goatfather decided (Okay, the goatfather says it was ALL the goatmother's idea) to go for dinner. Now some folks say they have experienced phenomena here, and some folks say that is all totally absurd. At any rate, the goatmother reports that nary one spooky thing happened. Poor goatmother. I confess I know what the problem is. John Keats said, "Do not all charms fly at the mere touch of cold philosophy? There was an awful rainbow once in heaven: we know her woof, her texture (must have been that fuzzy little dirt-devil); she is given in the dull catalogue of common things (now there is an understatement if I ever heard one). Philosophy will clip an angel's wings, conquer all mysteries by rule and line, empty the haunted air (See? I told you.), and gnome mine unweave a rainbow.(That'll teach the goatmother to put those stupid little gnomes all over her garden)" Obviously the goatmother has spent far too much time around some philosophical goat, who shall conveniently remain nameless here. Oh, well, goatmother. C'est la vie! At least the food was good.