By Jay Burchard
When my husband and I were working with our real estate agent, and now friend and neighbor, Paula Thomas of Paula Properties, to purchase a house, we looked at neighborhoods throughout Atlanta. Like most Atlantans, we had our own algorithm for determining “the best choice for us”: location, commute to work (and the flow of traffic), the size and layout of the house, yard, etc.
Potential buyers are often used to hearing questions from their agent about price, square footage, number of bathrooms, or whether they want a “move-in-ready” home versus a “fixer-upper.” One question we weren’t expecting to hear came as we stood at the front door of a bright blue house on Woodland:
“Do y’all like Halloween? It’s kind of a big deal here. Especially on this street.”
Now, as we approach our third Halloween in Ormewood Park, we understand exactly why Paula asked us this.
We ultimately decided to pursue Ormewood because, beyond all of the practical and logical considerations, there seemed to be something special and unique about the home—and more importantly, the neighborhood. Perhaps, it was historical aesthetic of many of the nearby homes, maybe it was the beautiful magnolia tree across the street. At the time, we couldn’t quite put our finger on what it was, beyond “vibes.”
More than two years later, we are so happy that we chose Ormewood and get to call this neighborhood home. I feel a little sense of pride whenever I tell people how cool my neighborhood is, especially when October rolls around. It is easily the best month.
I grew up in a small town near Shenandoah National Park, so I wasn’t accustomed to festivals or huge community events—certainly none that were within walking distance—or to seeing throngs of children and families fill a street on Halloween night. Where I grew up, our Halloween tradition was simple: we would fill a box of candy, turn on the porch light, and leave a handwritten sign that said, “Grab what you want. Happy Halloween.” We would decorate the bushes with some cobwebs for a spooky effect; otherwise, that was it.
Halloween in Ormewood couldn’t be more different. Fast forward to Halloween 2024: As the sun began to set, more people came. Then more people. And then even more people. Aside from the fact that people were wearing costumes, I almost forgot it was Halloween because the sheer number of people was astounding. Children and families seemed to come from every direction, filling the streets and moving from house to house. Lines here, there, everywhere! At one point, I remember seeing someone walking an enormous, intricately crafted spider along the street that moved with the eerie, deliberate motion of Shelob from The Lord of the Rings. It was the kind of sight that makes you stop and think, “Where else would you see this?” I am living in an actual Halloweentown.
Then there is the candy. Our first year, we thought we had purchased plenty. Paula laughed when we told her and was sweet enough to give us an extra bag or two. Last year, we went through more than 800 pieces of candy. And apparently, our section of the neighborhood isn’t even the “busy part.” This year, I’m considering getting a clicker so we can keep better track of exactly how many trick-or-treaters head our way.
But the crowds are only part of what makes Halloween in Ormewood special. What stands out most is how much of it feels like a neighborhood-wide effort.
Across the street from us, neighbors and volunteers host a hot dog event that starts around the end of the workday for trick-or-treaters and their families. Homes throughout the neighborhood begin putting up decorations weeks in advance, and I love walking around and watching the transformation as Halloween approaches. One house adds something new. Then another. Before long, the whole neighborhood feels like it is getting ready for a block party.
Different houses have music playing, too. Last year, we played a lot of The Weeknd because of the steady beat and somewhat spookiness some of the songs have. As the crowds began to thin, we shifted to some Taylor Swift, Beyoncé, and rounded out the night with Whitney Houston. There was something extra fun about standing outside our home and providing our own little soundtrack to the neighborhood during the evening.
There is even a certain amount of Halloween preparation knowledge to be passed down. I remember someone posting a tutorial on how to manage trick-or-treaters, which somehow felt both hilarious and completely necessary. Thank you to whoever you are!
And when we first started meeting our neighbors, there seemed to be one question that inevitably came up. After the introductions and the usual small talk, someone would say: “You know about Halloween around here, right?” We heard it so many times that eventually it became part of our understanding of the neighborhood. Halloween wasn’t just an event. It was one of those little traditions that seemed to connect people.
So, you can imagine my delight when I finally got to say it myself. When we met our new next-door neighbor for the first time earlier this spring, after the introductions and a few exchanges, I got to deliver the line: “You know about Halloween around here, right?”
It felt like a small rite of passage. The past two Halloweens—and even the preparation leading up to this year’s big night—have felt like revisiting a part of my childhood that I didn’t know I still had, or perhaps didn’t realize I missed. Last year, I built the Sanderson Cottage “Hocus Pocus” LEGO set—all 2,316 pieces—to display on our coffee table. This past May, I started making my own outdoor ghost decorations in anticipation of cooler temperatures. As I write this, I’m looking into getting a Halloween paint-by-number kit. I’ve already picked out a costume that seemed fitting for the neighborhood: a squirrel.
And when Halloween falls on a weekday again, I’m seriously considering taking some PTO just to have more time to prepare. Who knows what I’ll do next year. A Halloween-inspired tattoo, perhaps?
What I do know is that Halloween has become one of the things I love most about living in Ormewood Park—not simply because of the costumes, decorations, candy, or even the spectacular crowds, but because of what all of those things represent. It is community. It is neighbors volunteering to serve hot dogs. It is houses transforming their front yards together. It is hundreds of children and families filling the streets. It is neighbors sharing tips, traditions, and stories. It is welcoming new residents with a warning—or perhaps an invitation—that Halloween around here is a big deal.
When Paula asked if we liked Halloween, we thought she was asking about the holiday. Which, she was…sort of. But I think she was also introducing us to a community-cherished tradition. And I’m so glad that we get to be a part of it.
