Season of the witch

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.

Ya gotta love this song. Well, reckon you don’t have to, but I do. Donovan’s song is a weird one, but, weird is right up my alley.. Looked on web for interpretations – various. “Paranoia”.. “Perhaps an acid trip”..

You've got to pick up every stitch,
You've got to pick up every stitch,
You've got to pick up every stitch,
Mm, must be the season of the witch,
Must be the season of the witch, yeah,
Must be the season of the witch.

Picking up every stitch is said to be a knitting term, and one suggested it was a mental patient looking out the window, knitting.

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, sure he's strange.

S’more paranoia.. Looking over shoulder. Seems we spend our lives looking over our shoulder. Locking our doors. Finding a convenient, yet safe, place to park. Goofing off at work, an occasional peek over shoulder. Opening an email a friend sent and they didn’t explain in advance it was “R-rated”..

Also kinda liked Teddy Roosevelt’s “It’s terrible to look over your shoulder when you’re trying to lead – and find no one there.”.. Satchel Paige’s “Don't look back. Something may be gaining on you."


You've got to pick up every stitch,
You've got to pick up every stitch,
Beatniks are out to make it rich,
Oh no, must be the season of the witch,
Must be the season of the witch, yeah,
Must be the season of the witch.
You've got to pick up every stitch,
The rabbits running in the ditch,
Beatniks are out to make it rich,
Oh no, must be the season of the witch,
Must be the season of the witch,
Must be the season of the witch.

The wonderful consensus of those “professional ‘interpret this song’ interpreters” was that “rabbits running in the ditch” simply rhymed.

When I look.
When I look out my window,
What do you think I see ?
And when I look in my window,
So many different people to be
It's strange, sure it's strange.
You've got to pick up every stitch,
You've got to pick up every stitch,
The rabbits running in the ditch,
Oh no, 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, when I look.

Actually, looking out our windows is so very different for us each. Not only what we see, but how we interpret it. Our ‘take’. We all “see the cover” and define “the book” by that. Jump to conclusion, or, stand back and ‘cipher awhile – perhaps whilst we pick up every stitch.

Her opine, his opine, my opine, your opine. Same world, different views from window. So many different people to be, it’s strange, sure it’s strange.

Those of us old farts “from the 60’s, 70’s” see out our window that we grew up in the greatest musical era EVER. Our view, our take. Being from this era – we share a unique take on things. We lived the Cuban Missile Crisis, JFK’s assassination, Black and White TV, black and white separation – and finally unity, the Beatles, every damn possible way to play a musical song there is….. victrola, 45, 33, 8 tracks, cassettes, CD, IPod, yada, yada. When some looked out the window, us kids were out playing in the yard. Yain’t seeing that much nowadays. Same world, different views from the window. A changing society, continually.

Ok, call ‘em “biased windows”.. Why, BACK IN MY DAY… hehe.. I drove up to Windys yest to grab a bite (Double-stackers, yum yum, highly recommend ‘em!) and the little gal at the window – mebbe 16 (mebbe not) had probably 17 tattoos, including 4 from the neck up.. Uh oh. I stopped just short of slapping myself.. “book/cover”.. Damn you Victor, your hair was down to your shoulders in 1972. REMEMBER? How YOU hated that view of old farts when they looked out the window at you? So, tattooed 16 year old with 17 tattoos, I apologize. I don’t know every stitch about you.

Rambling, sorry. I’ll scram. Enjoy the view from your window. ‘Sides, looking over my shoulder, betta get back to work. Do you retired folks look over your shoulder? Pick up every stitch?

Love, Victurd.