“The autumn quarter of Lughnasadh brings the gift of maturity and is a time of physical harvest and spiritual garnering. It sees the greatest change in weather from broiling heat to dark and chilly nights. It is the time for celebrating the harvest and sees the busy preparations for winter. In the human growth cycle, Lughnasadh corresponds to the period of mature adulthood when a certain steadiness and responsibility have been established. It is a good time to celebrate the lives of all you have helped stabilize and uphold the noble values of life, of all who have exercised good judgment and steered the doubtful into the harbor of certainty, of all holy ones whose guardianship has saved us from life-disabling mistakes.”
~Celtic Devotional:Daily Prayers and Blessings, Caitlin Matthews
Have you begun to feel and smell the chill of autumn in the air of these August mornings? If you follow the Celtic calendar, you might know that August 1st begins the season of Lughnasadh( pronounced ‘loo-nah-sah’) or autumn. The season extends from the first of August to October 31st and carries us from the heat of summer to the fires that warm us on late fall evenings. For some time now I have done a check-in with myself using this calendar. Somehow it seems to make sense to me and finds a home in the rhythm of my body and daily life.
Over the last weeks I have been gathering the fruits and vegetables of summer to ‘put by’ for the winter months. Strawberry jam, blueberries in the freezer, cucumbers turned into both sweet and sour pickles are beginning to fill the shelves of the pantry. My husband walked through the kitchen on Saturday and rightly asked, “Why do you always have to can on the hottest days of the year?” The simple answer is that this is when the produce is ripe and, to be ready for winter, you have to work while the sun shines and the temperatures rise! Of course, none of this is truly necessary. Everything I squirrel away for winter is available year round if you want to pay the price. But it does my heart, and my soul, good to ride the waves of the seasons in this way, to live by the calendar of what is growing and what is not. It somehow just seems to me like the right and faithful thing to do.
On Saturday a group of friends sat on our deck enjoying the mounting summer heat and the presence of one another’s company and frequent laughter. I could hear them as I chopped and diced in the kitchen. At one point someone came through the room and asked me what the Celts called the season of autumn. I stopped to remember that indeed, July 31st, was the last day of summer according to this calendar. As I answered, he held out a gift to me: “Look what just fell into my lap.” he said. He held out a small leaf from our black walnut tree. A small, beautiful yellow leaf.
The Celts would offer this welcome to the season and all the yellow leaves yet to come: “Lady of the Land, open the door, Lord of the forest, come you in. Let there be welcome to the bountiful compassion. Let there be welcome to the Autumn of the Year. In fruit and grain you are traveling. In ferment and bread you will arrive. May the blessed time of Lughnasadh nourish the soul of all beings, bringing love and healing to all hurts. From the heights to the the depths, from the depths to the heights, to the wounds of every soul.”
And so riding the wave begins. So be it.