Linda G Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday Prompt  is “sharp.”

 

While gathering up some fun facts for my upcoming Halloween posts, I came across a very interesting Halloween tradition from Germany.

It involves knives.

I’ll just let that roll around in your head for a second.

I learned that from October 30th until November 8th, Catholic communities remember and honor their dead by visiting their graves and bringing flowers.

Nice, right? I think so. Seeing all of those pretty colors in the Fall in cemeteries which are sad places by nature is a lovely gesture for all involved- both for the living and the dead.

Sadly,  as we know sometimes when certain people pass on we aren’t going to bring them flowers in death because there’s no way in heck we would have brought them flowers in life.

They could have been mean, vicious, bad tempered, murderous and cruel and can we expect them to change in death?

Maybe they could or maybe they don’t change.

To be on the safe side- during the time of the year when welcoming back and remembering those of us who have moved on, nobody want to  risk that a few malevolent spirits could sneak back too, so the Germans have a tradition where they hide all of their knives.

I don’t care if people say German efficiency is a myth. I think it’s true. So there.

About 5 years ago I came home from work one day and I went straight into the kitchen to get a drink of water.

I stopped dead in my tracks because in the middle of my kitchen floor were a pile of knives.

I felt like I had just wandered into a horror film.

To put a point on it ( see what I did there ) almost every single one of my knives from my knife rack and the ones that had been drying with my dishes on the countertop dish rack were on the floor too.

No kidding, I was about to head out the back door when my dog ( who at this moment, in my mind had failed as any sort of guard dog ) strolled in slurped some water from his bowl and then he  jumped up and put his paws on the counter that is right next to his food and water bowls.

He reached into my dishrack, pulled out a butter knife and from his standing position turned his head and dropped it into the pile with the rest of my cutlery.

He wagged his tail.

I decided to drink  something a little stronger then water.

I love my dog, but I have a sneaky feeling that the wise thing to do, after he and I have shuffled off this mortal coil, is that if you think of us around Halloween.

Hide the knives.