or so they tell me.
Last night, the cat and I were awakened by a loud crashing coming from the direction of the front porch. Suspecting it might be our occasional nocturnal visitor–the Happy Raccoon–I got up to peer onto the porch. Much to my surprise, it was actually a substantial limb from the maple tree that had fallen in the front yard in three big chunks. It had missed the porch and the birdbaths and only grazed a rose bush that needs a good fall pruning anyway.
Yes, you’re right–we were very lucky.
The season-changing got down to business last night as the steady drumbeat of rain also brought some lowering temperatures. Leaves are changing color and decorating the driveway and the cars. We’ve cleared out a good portion of all the gardens–we need to get on that earlier than we usually do because we plan to re-fence everything in the early Winter.
We are moving swiftly through the last months of what I call the Long Dying of the Year. I celebrate the ancient new year at November 1 and the Failing of the Year ends with the coming of the Winter Solstice and the return of greater light. We are preparing now for the final harvest, the harvest of souls, at Samhaintide.
The Ancestor Altar has been dusted and refurbished. Some new Ancestors have been added. To be honest, they aren’t new…Harriet Ray Ruth has been dead a long, long time. But I discovered a new picture of her from some internet genealogy research.
My thoughts are turning again to Samhain and to the odd cultural balancing act of this mournful time of honoring the Dead in the midst of the dominant culture celebrating Hallowe’en. Which I also celebrate. And after those things are danced and done, we also welcome the New Year.
I will need a long rest before I deal with the Solstice. That is a true thing.