Today for us in the northern hemisphere is the celebration of Lughnasadh. When I first started observing pagan holy days this harvest feast felt strange. I had always felt like “harvest” was the big hurrah, the mad dash days of non-stop picking, pickling, canning, drying, putting away. The putting up of winter squash in the cold cellar, the crackling of falling leaves underfoot, the smell of autumn in the air.
I still feel that way, but I have come to appreciate this sabbat as well. Over the years as I have done more of my own gardening, there is that subtle shift which happens this time of year. Chokecherries ripen, the occasional duck or goose flies honking or quacking overhead. The grapes are still green on the vine, but there is plenty of fare to be had at the local farmer’s market.
As an earth witch, I give more attention to the ebb and flow of the seasons and the movement of the heavens, than I do the mythos of, say, John Barleycorn. Today I will be offering some thanks and gratitude at my altar and picking the next ripe crop of tasty things from my garden. I am looking forward to a wee bit of time spent in the mountains sometime in the next several days. I may harvest some sage and juniper if they are bountiful.
This year, as so many are struggling with so little, I am especially grateful for the life I have. This earth is ever-shifting and having shelter, food and family is precious. Blessings to all of you, and may you find reason in this day to celebrate!
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