I am one of those self-righteous Halloween grinches who has, throughout my adult life, staunchly rejected the celebration of the festival in October. 

Since becoming parents, the tawdry skeletons and environmentally hazardous fake spiderwebs have been foisted upon us with renewed vengeance. My kids are only two and four and have thus far remained blissfully ignorant of the spooky day. 

Not this year. 

This year, my eldest came home from preschool very excited about Halloween, courtesy of the aforementioned skeletons and fake spiderwebs adorning their play equipment, along with Halloween-themed craft sessions with their teachers. Although I treasure the coffee filter that has been coloured in, held together with a peg and is supposed to resemble a bat (I don’t see it, but don’t tell my daughter), I’m also quietly resentful of being pulled into celebrating Halloween by the otherwise dependable preschool staff.

Why this distaste for Halloween, you ask? 

Well, allow me a wee rant. Before it was appropriated by the Catholic church, Halloween originated from the ancient Celtic pagan festival of Samhain (pronounced SAH-WIN) that marks the end of the harvest time in the northern hemisphere and the first day of winter. The festival celebrates the point at which the year tips toward the darker, colder months. It is believed that it’s an auspicious time where the veil between this world and the otherworld is thin, allowing spirits to pass through. 

In Ireland, the mother-country of Halloween, large turnips were carved into faces and lit with candles in lieu of pumpkins, which arrived on the scene later in history. Pumpkins are native to North America and became the vegetable of choice for Irish immigrants settling in the New World. These lanterns were used to ward against evil spirits and ghouls, while masks and costumes were worn to confuse their passage through this world. 

So, a fascinating history and a fun modern take on a seasonal festival. Which would be all well and good if we lived in the Northern Hemisphere. Our geography means that we celebrate a festival for the coming of darkness on a date that actually marks the opposite: 31st October in the southern hemisphere announces the coming of summer. Unfortunately, our enthusiasm for American culture and the modern commercialised paraphernalia of Halloween has resulted in us participating in a seasonally inappropriate festival. 

Albeit one that we celebrate somewhat half-heartedly. Although the shops are full of Halloween stuff, seemingly more each year, I get the impression that Australians are still not totally on board with Halloween, despite our America fan-girling. Perhaps our apathy comes from the energetic misalignment of the seasonally defunct festival. 

I think as a child I went trick-or-treating once and came back with a pitiful bounty. My friend told me a story of the one year her brother went trick-or-treating, only to return with a single lemon. Turns out the neighbours were not prepared. Either that or they were protesting the celebration of a seasonal faux pas. I have never brought sweets for trick-or-treaters on Halloween and simply hide in my house, pretending no one is home like the sad little Halloween grinch I am.

I actually love celebrating Halloween/Samhain… on the 30th of April – the eve of the Australian winter. 

To celebrate it in October feels like mild sacrilege to mother nature, who is a poignant driving force in my life. There is a seasonally appropriate festival that is celebrated at this time during the peak of spring and the onset of summer. It’s called Beltane. This festival is the other side of the Halloween coin. It celebrates fertility, fullness of light and increased energy. It’s all about flowers and fresh produce. Think maypoles and flower crowns and feasting.

Yet, we can’t totally ignore Halloween. The question of the week among my friends, accompanied with a reluctant grimace, has been: “Are you doing trick-or-treat with the kids?”

The consensus is clear: none of us want to do it. But the discussion has been, "Should we?" 

Let me make one thing clear: any time the word ‘should’ is used alongside any behaviour pertaining to motherhood, my skin gets a little itchy. ‘Shoulds’ are woefully overrated. 

I did not go trick-or-treating with my kids this year. The fact that it rained in Wollongong was enough of an affirmation of my ‘selfish’ decision. My rule is that until they ask me, I won’t be shooting myself in the foot by mentioning it to them. I’m an introverted person by nature and the idea of knocking on strangers’ doors in a hastily donned wig does not appeal in any way. Nor do I need my toddlers bouncing from the walls on a post-trick-or-treating lolly high. 

Tempering the other side of this argument is the joy that it would bring my kids to dress in spooky costumes and petition our neighbours for sweets. Also, celebration and ritual create joy and connection, those vital ingredients for human life, that allow our kids to create core memories. 

So this year, I decided to do a Beltane-Halloween mash-up combining last-minute spooky costume purchases for my kids and a packet of Freddos. They dressed up as a witch and a cat and I had a bowl of Freddos ready for the door-knockers. I strung up a string of skull lights from the window and added a single plastic bat as my decorations. The girls loved it. 

Dressed as said witch and cat, we also walked outside and picked flowers, making a garden altar to celebrate spring and the abundance of summer yet to come. We then left a Freddo in the garden for the fairies, which I later removed from the garden lest the dog suddenly decide she identifies as a fairy. 

I’m going to toot my own horn and say that I absolutely nailed it. Seasonally appropriate ritual combined with silly costumes, minimal effort and a splash of social conformity for the joy of the kids. 

My only gripe is this: no one came knocking on our door. Maybe next year I should buy some lemons.