Halfway between the heady exuberance of Summer Solstice and the fading of Autumn Equinox, we come to a place in the Wheel of the Year that shimmers under a sun that is still hot; but the energy is ebbing. Rain or not, we can see that the plants are drawing their life force inward: Perennials to their roots and seeds, Biennials to their roots, and and Annuals to the seeds that will carry their spark forward into the spring of next year.
The Solar Wheel turned at Summer Solstice. Now the light fades and the energy that has sustained life bursting forth all summer ebbs out, ever so gently. Even so, many plants are just now in full flower, or have yet to open their blossoms; a last hail to the warmth of summer before they, too, go to seed. Goldenrod, Grindelia and Artemisia already shower us with their heady scent and soon will follow brightness in their blossoms. But the feel of the air is hazier and lazier than a month ago. Marked by a few geese returning and birds gathering, we know subtly that the year fades.
It is still summer, and the elemental force is still of Fire, but something has changed,and the light falls in a different place on the fence, the wall, the tree. Stressed by heat, some trees shed a few leaves now, though they will not start to turn in earnest here for nearly two months.In this cycle of Life-Death-Life we keep pace with the earth in late summer through the harvest of the Seed — the many grains and nuts that feed us. This gateway offers insight into the life cycles on our planet and the promise of renewal in spring, after the seed rests in the Earth, the Cauldron of Life. It is also a time for sharing bread and feasting in community with those we love — those who have helped us in this year so far to cultivate harvest in our lives and inner selves.
Last night I lit the sacred fire, reminder of Lugh the solar deity of my Irish ancestors, and of the sun, radiant giver of life and light on earth. Today I am feasting with those I love, and in memory of others with whom I have have feasted in years gone.
It is a time of gratitude, as all harvests are. What have you created in this year that sustains you? What kindnesses have come your way or have you shared with those you love? What beautiful creations of Art, Music, Words, Garden, Homemaking or Light have you brought forth adding harmony to your world and that of others? What plants have you shared secrets with or nurtured? What things, having them always, are easy to take for granted: Food on the table, health, a safe home, wild or domestic animals that we share space with, cool or warmth at need? How can you nurture all of these as seeds through the months of longer nights, with gratitude for yourself and all that you are?
Now, in the light that changes on my back fence daily in these gentle days of late summer, I am grateful for all of these; and most of all for the love of the plants, that call to us to reconnect in a partnership that, until recent centuries, we understood we could not live without.
