Setting Aside (but not sacking) Samhain

As I grow older, I see the overlap of Samhain & my day of birth as functioning to draw my attention to the frailty & impermanence of the fleshworld; of my own flesh & bones, as well as those of others. So much is made of ancestor veneration & the "beloved dead," but I find that the mental act of ticking off another year on a day reserved for honouring endings puts a different spin on "Happy Birthday." There are several other factors which stymie my Samhain spirit & I have been giving all of it careful consideration this year (while successfully avoiding the emotional pitfalls of last year). I feel I am reaching some conclusions & possibly some new directions.

All Hallow's Lanterns 2012.

Folks make much ado about Samhain & I confess that although I have always been enchanted by its mystique, there has always been something about it that eludes me. Last year, I grappled with Samhain more than ever before. During a planning meeting for our community Samhain celebrations, I had commented to another committee member that I had difficulty with the dumb supper & other more "ghostly" rites because I lean toward the concept of rapid spiritual recycling. To my surprise & relief, she said she also leans that way. (She is Hindu & a member of a rare sect of Hinduism of which I know nothing, nor did she elaborate.) In general, I just don't think the spiritual remnants of the deceased hang around all that long. I'm am open to the possibility that there are those individuals who will linger about for one reason or another, but I think the bulk of us just jump right back into the pool for another go-'round. Reincarnation, wheels turning, webs weaving, 'round & 'round we go, where we end up, we never know…

This is one of those inconsistencies in Wicca that has always bothered me. On the one hand, Wiccans generally subscribe to the concept of reincarnation, yet they also assert that the "beloved dead" can join the table at a Samhain rite. If, after death, we "return to the cauldron" how can this be? How do the dead make it to dinner?

Besides, I'm not convinced that my ancestors & departed loved ones would really appreciate or understand being honored in that fashion -- in ways that are not their own -- in contexts strange & woo-ey.

A few weeks ago I purchased a children's book about the Day of the Dead. Of all of us, I think I love the book best, but the Changeling likes it very much too & he walks about, shoving it into laps & faces insistently repeating, "Dedd! Dedd! Dedd!" What I like most about the book is that it captures the celebration of family & departed loved ones in a way that makes all the trappings & activities make sense. Being written for children, it tells about the rituals & rites without attempting to put on airs or create a mystery. It's Boo-Woo free. This children's book gave me a clearer, deeper understanding of the Day of the Dead than any other source I have previously encountered & I believe it was precisely because it was written for children. Honesty; no spin, no frills.

Pages from "Day of the Dead," by Tony Johnston & Jeanette Winter.

In addition to helping me understand the holiday & it's traditions, the book revealed something unintentional. One of my major stumbling blocks to ancestor veneration & honoring the dead is the lack of physical access to their remains. I cannot go to my humans' bones. In the book, the families process -- with all their parcels & flowerpetals & candles -- to the churchyard where their loved ones are buried. As a modern citizen of the U.S., my ancestors & deceased loved ones' burial sites are scattered all over the land. There is no close knit, ancestral burial ground to which we can process, no neighborhood churchyard at which we can celebrate, no village graveyard in which to visit & remember.

A Samhain Season Moonrise.

If we cannot cherish, honor & reminisce among their bones, if their spirits are already far flung, riding the Wheel elsewhere… then how? Where? What do we do to connect to & commemorate then? I have no answer to this. None. I am a creature tied to the corporeal & also to place -- I recognize this about myself & I believe my children are very much the same. How do we work with these limitations? I have considered looking more carefully at the Shinto traditions, but, as in so many of the older traditions, the ancestors are tied to the land. With ancestors untied from the land, how can we make Samhain make sense?

Then, there's the harvest side of Samhain. I have not the time nor inclination to discuss this at length (mostly, because life has become very complicated). Instead, I will make a short note: Agriculture is very limited in Alaska & so completely over by the end of October that it is a moot point. Additionally, I have many misgivings about celebrating agriculture (I will not expatiate here, except to point to modern agriculture as the root of most of our current ecological problems). Some say Samhain is the first frost. My bioregional self really likes that, but the first frost sometimes arrives in September & that's just awkward. Samhain in it's guise as the final harvest festival is equally problematic -- not quite satisfying or even making sense. I question our motives. Are we just celebrating this day because everyone else is doing it?

My conclusion for now is to ask the ancestors for input (or not) & give Samhain a break. 

An oversized Amanita Muscaria...
Our fruits sure don't fall far from the tree.

There are no losses here, however. Our children love All Hallow's Eve/Halloween & as a child of that day, I do too. We can continue to embrace All Hallow's & all the delights of the Halloween traditions while exploring the customs of the Day of the Dead & working out this quandary of remembrance. Of course, little things like the annual Samhain tarot spread will remain &as of this year, we are beginning a new tradition of ceremonially seeing in the month of November. 

November: our month of preserving/preparing our foraged foods. This Hallow's Eve we started up our first batch of wild-harvested black-currant liqueur, baked a tray of chocolate malt biscotti (to be vacuum-sealed & preserved for holiday gifting) & set up a couple litres for vanilla infused vodka (makes a great drink & also works in baking as an extract). So, setting aside Samhain (for now), we shift to an ushering-in of hunkering-down. Like squirrels. Or something.

November 2012 Infusions.
(left to right: organic strawberry, wild black currant, vanilla bean, wild highbush cranberry)

For the Files: Autumn Equinox, Community Style

Freyja, by Arthur Rackham
image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

Below is a much abbreviated documentation of our community Autumn Equinox rite. For the files.

Our community Autumn Equinox was celebrated in the Norse tradition of Hausblot, or Fallfest. I attended alone, much to my discomfort, but this particular celebration was not developed/adapted for children & my familiarity with these rites told me that the presence of our children would not be in keeping with the intent of this event. I knew however, despite my conflicting feelings, that of any & all the celebrations hosted by our pan-pagan family, this would be the one which would most speak to me personally.

My pagan roots were set among the Ásatrúar -- their rites are familiar, stirring, honest & potent. It has sometimes mystified me how I never came to embrace Norse Heathenry, but when I examine things fairly, I know that while their values, rites, lifeways & traditions draw me, their cosmology & more importantly, their gods do not. 

The event was planned & coordinated by our community's sole Norse devotee. It began with a blót* in honour of Odin, followed by a wonderful, warm feast. In certain regards, the blót seemed more formal & involved than the blóts-of-yore, but I think some of this is due to selective memory, while some of it is probably because this event was developed for a diverse & public audience. It seems to me my friends-of-yore were much louder too... in fact, I am sure of that, but we were a great deal younger then, a bit more rowdy & much more vociferous. Regardless of how memory matches reality, I must give kudos to Shanley for an artfully developed rite & in particular, for his verse & how he represented our house fires in this ritual. It was very beautiful, symbolically & literally. 

There was some song practice following the feast & we were blessed to have our talented & multilingual songstress sing the verses of Herr Mannelig for us so that we might only struggle with the refrain. I had the luck of being seated beside her & I had one of those moments of utter awe & appreciation for the gifts of our human faculties... the gifts of community too. 

A sumbel* followed feasting & song practice. This was a long rite, lasting nine rounds & two, maybe closer to three hours (not the longest in Heathen history, I am certain!) before we needed to end -- possibly prematurely for some -- due to time & other commitments. There is little I can share about what transpired. All speech in sumbel is sacred speech & it is not my place to repeat it.

I went to this event knowing that I would need to address my outstanding debt to Freyja. I decided to bring some of my apple seeds & restate my oath. I also wanted to read a poem in Her honour -- on behalf of myself & Heather Awen -- so I made certain that this would be in keeping with our host's intentions for the sumbel. It was an honour both to publicly extol Her before my tribe & to represent the voice of someone who has given me a great deal of inspiration. 

I chose a poem written by Hoen Falker of the Visigoth Tradition, Clan Falker & translated by Solange Stanquini. English is obviously not the first language of the author, nor do I believe it is that of the translator, so the poem has some translational idiosyncrasies. However, I found it so beautiful, so moving, that I chose to use it despite a few uncertain lines. I made a handful of small adjustments to assists the flow, but otherwise the poem is as I found it here: Chant to Freyja. My thanks to the author for such a sincere, emotive piece. 

Hail Freyja!

Poem in Honour of Freyja by Hoen Falker

Oh, loved goddess of Elfos, Humans & Valquiras,
that in the starry night,
reigns with replete kindness!
At the thresholds of the world
dressed of hawk
You overstep
giving a present with talents
the treasures where You pass through!
In the shining lands & meadows of the whole people,
celestial fire
it's her glance at rest.
Prostrated, to You I offer
amber & flowers,
tears & laughter.
For my Lady,
the clamours.
Show us,
the human homes in Your mesh.
Mounted on Her high boar,
She helps in the battles.
Your illuminated face in the winds of the heights
for who the fire,
front to the ice,
is like softness.
She is Lady,
of felines & hawks.
My ancestral Ones live close to You.
The half of my songs,
I offer to You.
Oh! Glorious!!
To You I offer
a burning fire of memory.
You are goddess Freyja,
of the Vanires,
the most beautiful woman!
The arches of Your eyes
like wings of swans.
A star.
Your eyes are sunny emerald seas.
Your red mouth is our blood on contemplated snow.
When falls the afternoon,
You become an invisible shine,
for Your destroyed lovers.
To choose,
for You my more beautiful desires,
I will order for the enchantments
intoning rage
& I will see then of the lonely death.
I will wake up.
It will be Your smiling
with all your beloved damsels...
The discovery of your forests
will bring the rain
& to my inert, cold body,
the life will return.

* There are many sources for information regarding the rites & traditions of the Ásatrúar, most of which I am sure are quite excellent. I chose Raven Kindred Online because it actually represents the spirit of my pagan family "of yore." Its authors were among my people & their ways were how I came to understand Ásatrú. You can find the rest of them (almost) at Raven Kindred North.

The Magic is Here & Now.

An Ent with a very fine moustache.

Today is a "High Day" but yesterday was Magic.

Walking in places where two (or three, or four) worlds meet, opening ourselves to all that which surrounds us, we found Magic.

Brushing along the Birch skins under the foreboding Devil's Club, we found the beautiful ones.

Magic is big,

Everything I need. All of it, Magic.

& Magic is small.

Diminutive, orange slime mold fruiting bodies.

Magic is in the symbols we encounter

Quite a pair of Gemmed Puffballs (Lycoperdon perlatum).

& in the symbols we create.

Hubby's Inukshuk.
This one, a Guidepost for a departed friend.

When we seek, we find gifts of Magic anywhere, everywhere.

Mama & baby Moose under the Moon. Yesterday, Point Woronzof.

Magic: Amanita muscaria, the Fly Agaric.

Magic is here. 

Magic is now.  

Magic is within & without. 

Magic is above & below. 

Magic is every single day. 

Magic beckons us at every turn. 

We are all creatures of this Magic Earth.

Magic is our Native Tongue. It need not be complicated. 

We find Magic when we allow its approach, when we make ourselves available.

• We need not escape into fantasy, looking elsewhere, beyond ourselves, beyond this magnificent Place to find Magic. It is here, now.
• We need not spend our lives yearning for transcendence, dismissing the wonder of this Place in the hopes of something we imagine is superior. This Earth is sublime. It is Magic. It is here, now.
• We need not wait for the gods to bestow Magic upon us, barking at their heels for gnosis & believing we cannot achieve this for ourselves. We are Magic. We are here, now. 
• We need not wait for the "special" days, times, hours to create, work, share Magic together. The Magic is right now, right here.
• Magic has its own rules. Listen & believe in no others.

Go find, capture, make, discover, conjure, harness, seek, embrace, share Magic... here, now...

& may it be a blessed Day for all.

For the Files: Summer Solstice, Community Style

Sharing changes everything. 

Smoke Fills the Circles. ACoA Summer Solstice Festival 2012.

The weekend was spent with our Arctic Circle of Anchorage Community. It is our great fortune to have a place among them. 

Blessings at the Gate.

This was the second annual Summer Solstice Festival, a weekend-long celebration filled with ritual, music, sharing of skills, talents, knowledge & of course, togetherness. The Land owners & many community members worked their tails off (& left their coinpurses with little else but lint) improving the site this Spring. Where there was naught, there is now a working well, two really lovely outhouses (as outhouses go), a graveled, off-street parking area & a pair of large, concentric stone circles around a contained fire pit on a sand & gravel bed for ritual space. This area was very difficult to capture in a photograph (especially without a wide-angle lens) & I wish I could find a way to get an aerial photo, but I did my best to represent it from the ground. Use your expansive imagination.

Being the parents of wee folk, we recognize the folly of trying to camp the weekend through, but also being half rural-folk, we have no fear of driving incredible distances at odd hours to get what we need. Thus, we made the three-hour round trip drive out of Anchorage & back to participate in the Friday & Saturday events, arriving home at 3am, both times. The wee folk are still not yet re-calibrated & sleep until ten, but there are no regrets.

This year, somehow, I found myself taking many photographs (something I am not used to at Pagan affairs), so there is an amply-sized collection of images documenting the evening events  at the ACoA Summer Solstice Album. Other members have also contributed to the collection -- thus making it voluminous -- so please do visit & enjoy. 

Inside the Women's Outhouse: A Room with a View.

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  Friday

  
  

  
  

  

  Handfasted before the altar.

  Friday evening we had the pleasure of witnessing the handfasting of two of our community members. There is something potent about the illustrative elements, the visual symbols of a handfasting ritual. It is not the same as listening to some officiant speaking words, words, words & then deeming the couple bonded. The physicality of binding hands together reaches deeper into the subconscious, particularly when many hands play a part. It calls forth the rootedness of the primal, the tribal too. Not that this was a heavy, onerous occasion -- indeed, it was filled with the happiest of tears the the brightest of smiles. We now look forward to their union after a year & a day. 

  
  

  Directly following the handfasting, we held the opening ritual, a particularly nice, simple ceremony. I only wish I had been in closer proximity to the group that I might have held a hand or two, but alas, chasing The Changeling allows for none of that stationary sort of activity. At least I could feel the excitement, love & magick reaching out from that circle, it's tendrils curling about the torch posts, my waist & the trees beyond. Sharing changes everything. 

  
  

  And then the party.

  
  

  

  "Sooj" (SJ Tucker)
  sings at our AK Solstice event.

  The Changeling found his niche quickly during an improv drum session. Looking back on this evening, I do believe he has found his shining star -- his muse -- in the delightful creature we call "Sooj," more formally known as Sj Tucker. He remained enrapt in the rhythms throughout the weekend, tried his tiny hand at various percussion instruments & found a gentle, patient mentor in our local ATC Priest. Drum on, little brother.

  
  

  Our evening was filled with song, beginning with the voices of our own, local "Itty Bitty Kitty Kommittee" (IBKK) & followed by Sj Tucker herself. To try to articulate a musical experience in words requires the skill of the music critic. I am not a music critic. I am not even particularly well versed in music in general. So I leave it at one word: delight.

  
  

  
  

  
  

  • 
    

    Saturday

    
    

    
    

    
    

    

    2012 ACoA Summer Solstice graphic.
    Artwork © the talented Alica Wolter-Hausser.
    Image courtesy Ice Moon Grove.

    Our tiny clan managed to survive the 4am bedtime by sleeping until nearly noon. A little ragged, but still bright-eyed & bushy-tailed, we returned to The Land the following evening for dinner & the main Solstice event: a Druidic (ADF-style) rite to honor the passing of the Sun. This ritual was written & sponsored by Alaska's own Ice Moon Grove, an eclectic group of Druids working with both ADF & OBOD traditions, as well as exploring other paths. The ritual included the standard offerings to the Outdwellers, hallowing the Well, the Fire & the Tree, acknowledgements to the Ancestors, Shining Ones & the Spirits of the Land, with an invocation to the Sun. 

    
    

    The truly superlative portion of this rite, in my opinion, was the opening which (I believe) was devised to simultaneously mark the passage of the Sun & exemplify the unity of our diverse community. The outer circle had stations bearing flags & torches for each house of the zodiac & each house was represented by a member of the group. (Folks without parts stood at the house of their birthsign.) As each house was acknowledged, they lit their torch, passing the flame, sunwise, on to the next house. The same arrangement & process was followed by the inner circle which held stations for the planets. At the completion of these cycles, the two circles stood ready, torches ablaze -- individuals unified by the Whole of the Universe.

    
    

    

    Circles, Offerings & Our Tribe, ACoA Summer Solstice Festival 2012.

    
    

    Offerings for the Fire were plentiful & the flames burned on after the ritual's completion, giving dancers, drummers & merrymakers a focus (we certainly did not need the light or heat!). The children (Little Lad included) disappeared into the trees brandishing electric mosquito zappers & undoubtedly regressing to some earlier stage in social evolution. The youth notwithstanding, this night's revelry gently simmered with a more subdued energy than the previous evening -- folks were tired from lack of sleep & the heat of the inland Alaskan day. (A singular heat that should not be underestimated.) But this too seemed, well, just right. 

    
    

    

    Fire, Sacred Waters & Mead. Summer Solstice 2012.

    
    

    The evening was also just right for magick. So, when the Fire settled in, exposing its wide, smoldering bed of coals, I took some time with to do the work I hadn't been able to accomplish earlier in the week. As always, each working will receive proper documentation here in future days, life permitting, but in short; two fungi, two states, two mycelial messages rising out of the flames, riding the air to far away land. I even received some unexpected assistance. What a difference (!). Sharing changes everything. 

    
    

    I had a friend comment recently that the reason churches survive over time (as opposed to multi-faith establishments) is that they are founded on shared belief. While this may be true to some degree, I am inclined to believe that what really compels the human animal is community. Why do I know so many churchgoers who are non-believers, or casual at best? Yet they attend, every Sunday, never missing a beat. It is the community, the greater family, the kinship & (let's be honest here) its resources that attracts & sustains them. Most people seek, crave, need fellowship & while some may gain validation of their personal gnosis along the way, most are in it for the potlucks & spaghetti dinners.

    
    

    We have an eclectic community comprised of people involved in a variety of traditions & belief-systems. They may call themselves Druid, Hellenic, Hindu, Norse Heathen, Shinto, Wiccan or they may call them selves simply, "Pagan," "pagan," something else, or nothing at all. It pleases me to see that even those who are not of the hosting tradition are always on board, fully, completely. Last weekend, everyone was present with their whole selves. As Hubby would say, they were "in it to win it." We are not a community of complete like-mindedness. Not even close. With such diverse & often disparate traditions at this table, there is much room for variances & variances we have, most certainly. Yet there remains a compelling, universal desire to create, foster, build, maintain & support community. This is what holds us together. This is what makes all of this possible. This is is the makings of magick. 

    
    

    Sharing changes everything.

    
    

    

    And the flames burn on...

    
    

    
    

For the Files: Summer Solstice (Proper), Family Style

"Glad Midsommar" by Nicholas John Frith. Look! Morels!
Image found at a fave blog, A Polar Bear's Tale. 

Cook for the Sun, bake for the Moon. This is what we do...

It has never been an intentional or conscious gesture, but rather something organically derived, this cooking for the Sun. As we prepared our dinner foods that evening, it occurred to me that this is just how we do these things. All our Solar observances involve creating a special meal together & then of course, sharing it. For the Moon, there is nothing I enjoy more than devising a sweet treat & pairing it with just the right libation, but now is the season of the Sun. Cook we must.

How this inadvertent way of doing things came to pass, I cannot know, but this is what we do. It works.

Half eaten.
Our Summer Solstice meal 2012.

This year, chile-lime shrimp skewered & grilled with fiery-coloured sweet peppers, pineapple & onions. Perch them on a bed of saffron rice & it all becomes sublime. A sip of chilled Vouvray for me, a Firefly cocktail for hubby. Just the four of us in the light of this blazing, tireless Alaskan summer Sun. Just right.

Summer Solstice cakes, 2012.

We talked about the Solstice, the gifts of the Sun & the mechanics of it all over our dessert -- angelfood adorned with fresh mango slices & a raspberry coulis. Little Lad was delighted with the Summer Solstice magnet I had found for him (last winter, ironically) at the Anchorage Museum. Simple & relevant. Together. This is what we do.

A small token for the Little Lad.
Illustration by Alaskan artist Bruce Nelson.

Children do not like to mind their bedtimes when the Sun does not set. I had every intention of completing the aforementioned working that evening -- after the wee folk were asleep -- but hubby had to return to work for an unexpected round of testing. In the interim, our babies behaved like fiends & by the time my better half arrived to help me build the fire, I was spent. Too aggravated to do productive work, I accepted the limitations of this life & embraced the joys. The working would find its perfect time later in the week. So, Hubby & I shared some mead & together we placed the offerings in what functions as our "garden." Freshly brewed dandelion tea & a cup of mead for the Sun. No foods, of course. This is Alaska. This is what we do... & don't do. 

Offerings in the "garden." Summer Solstice, 2012.

For the Files: Yule 2011 Recap

When I began this blog last July, one of the primary functions for it was to serve as a "virtual scrapbook" for myself & my family. Like my brain, it wanders far off course & back again. Circuitousness aside, it is still doing a better job than the actual scrapbook I bought for a "family BOS" (or whatever) which sits lovely & unused on a shelf in my back hallway.

Bûche de Noël, my annual Yule specialty.

Documentation of Yule/Winter Solstice 2011 fell by the wayside thanks to (among other things), Las Vegas, seizures & urological screenings. Now that the dust has settled (sort of), I am making good on my commitment to documenting our family's Yule celebration, modest as it was this past year.

A Yule-ish sunrise.

Of all the so-called Pagan "High Days," Yule is the one for which I have always been most consistent in recognizing & also the one for which I have built up the most tradition. In a life many Moons past (read: nearly 20 years ago) my best friend & I would hold an overnight vigil -- awaiting the return of the Sun, which we greeted with much joy (& relief!) in a sleep-deprived delirium. Just as the Sun fell the eve before, we would light our vigil candles -- our insurace in case we happened to pass out. We would spend the earlier part of the night wandering the dark, snowy, New England forest searching for & felling a tree (she would do the deed because she is a ninja & I couldn't bear it). Then, we whiled away the hours stringing popcorn & cranberries & hanging all my earrings on the little tree because I didn't have any real ornaments. As the night grew long & the early morning started to tap our sanity & willpower, we would pop Evil Dead into the VCR & watch it, hoping to remain lucid just a few hours longer...

How families change things! Nowadays, Hubby & I prepare a feast for a collection of guests which fluctuates each year, depending upon timing, circumstance, etc. This year was hampered by our impending trip to Las Vegas so we narrowed the guest list down to my parents & kept it simple. Simplicity meant we did not make our usual Roasted Capon... (sigh). Instead, the menu (still delicious) consisted of:

1. Ghetto-fabulous Rosemary Chicken & Brie en Croûte
2. Creamy Bolete, Celery & Wild Rice Soup
3. Maple Roasted Carrots
4. Blanched Asparagus
5. Bûche de Noël (a recipe perfected over many, many years)

Of course, our Yule Vigil Candle was lit by the Little Lad at the setting of the Sun. This year we used the candle Hubby poured especially for Yule last year (good thing we made it big -- this whole Las Vegas thing nixed any chance of candlemaking this time around). We threw our Yule log -- saved from year-before-last-year's tree onto the fire (into the woodstove) & tossed our very special homemade Yule Incense (blended with the assistance of our Little Lad) on the charcoal. Blessings left & right, how divine.

Even prettier in real life.

My parents arrived for dinner, a toast was shared & mealtime enjoyed by all. (Though I noticed that my dad waited to see if we all died first before eating his wild mushroom soup.) Normally, we have a procession out to the pair of Black Locust trees in front of our house. There we all tie a Wishing Ribbon to each tree: one ribbon is a personal wish, the other, a wish for the Greater Good. Unfortunately, we had some wicked winds stewing about that night, so we opted to save the ribbons for the Sunrise. We called it an early but lovely evening. My parents took their little gifts of homemade & foraged Alaskan goodies home with them, along with their ribbons, to be tied to their Hawthorn tree in their own yard.

Our experience at Sunrise was sublime. Lucky me, I have already written that part of the story which can be found here: A Solstice Blessing, Horned One Style.

Boletus edulis, B. mirabilis, Leccinum scabrum & L. testaceoscabrum soaking in chardonnay.

Thoughts While Not Sleeping: Redefining the Equinox

Thanks to the combative felidae in my house, there is no sleeping in today. So I will use the time to purge some thoughts from my monkey-mind.

Forest floor, Anchorage in Autumn

The Autumnal Equinox is upon us. I have been noticing more & more people paying attention to this occasion over the years, each in their own way, whether it be secular, religious or spiritual. It is curious to me because when I was first entering the Pagan community, the general feeling towards the Fall Equinox was lukewarm. Of all the so-called "High-Days" (a discussion for another day) this one seemed most obtuse. Some books described it as a very significant celebration called "Mabon," but we all know how some books are. Friends said, "Well, actually... " and went on to argue that the Autumnal Equinox, aka "Mabon" was never actually recognized by their (at least, Northern European) ancestors. To complicate matters, we were in college. This placed us at a point of new beginnings, not endings & of course, we did not have agrarian pastimes, let alone livelihoods to tie us to any concrete harvest events. But, it was Autumn in rural Massachusetts -- fall is undeniable & breathtaking in that part of the world -- so we made it a celebration of our academic harvests & our goals of more to come. It felt a bit forced, but it was ok.

After I left Massachusetts, I began my time alone, solitary path, whatever you want to call it. What strikes me as I reflect upon those years is that the Autumnal Equinox was the single "holiday" I actively recognized most. Life had changed. Locations changed. I moved to Vermont, then to Utah. I was no longer in the glory of New England leaf-season, but autumn's approach was always certain & apparent. There is a moment, always very near the equinox, during every single autumn that I can remember -- even during childhood -- where I stand in the tilted sun & smell fall's arrival. Then I say aloud (to myself, but always aloud), "Fall is here."

Since I began living in Alaska during the summer & fall, the Autumnal Equinox has taken on an even greater meaning -- meaning of epic proportions because most things in Alaska are of epic proportions. It is easier to stay attuned to the cycles of Nature in the last frontier because the natural world is dramatically in-your-face, every day. Autumn is short here. Very short. Before we know it, the snow will be upon us. In a way, the Equinox is our Samhain. This is the end, the frenzied, final harvest time.

Tiny poppy pods

What a harvest it is! People are searching, collecting, storing. There are signs of people reaping the bounty everywhere. The patch of wild rosehips we kept our eyes on all summer has been plundered. Little holes alongside the bike path betray the digging of a dandelion root collector. Of course, there are the fungi. The boletus are tapering off with the colder temperatures, but now is the time for cool weather friends, the puffballs & shaggy manes. They arrive in droves. Other edible mushrooms that I do not know are being picked too. I see folks stooping low along the edges of paths, in the clearings, under forest's canopy. I see the mushrooms plucked & tossed aside everywhere. As the last of the raspberries are gathered, the wild currants & cranberries begin beckoning from the hillside. The crabapples in town are ripening & public flowerbeds are packed with artichokes ready for the picking -- if you are not shy. There are seeds to be collected; pods from lilies & poppies, flowerheads from a countless array of tired blooms. Friends are canning, sealing & smoking fish. I have yet to hear of a moose this year, but nearly every fall provides a quantity of this meat in the freezer. Harvest abounds. This is living the season.

So what are we doing to formally recognize the Autumnal Equinox? Our family has always prepared a special meal using seasonal foods. (Perhaps I will find the time later to post our recipes.) We have a toast, share the meal, give thanks to the gods & talk about things for which we are grateful. Last year, the Little Lad & I did some equinox artwork, other years we have baked a special offering. Motherhood has taught me to replace formal, rote ritual with activities that are more meaningful & easier for the wee ones to connect to their lives. I find that this approach is more worthwhile for me as well. Keeping our celebration attached to how we actually live (instead of making the strained connection to something that once was or even how other people may live today) makes for observances of sincerity.

Collecting Shaggy Manes

This year, we will be including a second event to our equinox celebration by joining our community for Thalysia. This is an autumnal harvest honoring the goddess Demeter being sponsored by Arctic Circle & The Anchorage Pagan Meetup. This will be our first season sharing this event with them & I feel that it is a perfect way to round out the meaning of the harvest. As human animals, our people are important to us. Like gardens, relationships are sown, nurtured & fed. From this care & work we harvest the fruits of mutual enjoyment & support. I feel it is important for us to recognize the gifts of freindship & community from year to year. The equinox is very much like Thanksgiving arriving early. Coming together for a giving of thanks is a perfect way to honor & strengthen our bonds.

Everyone has their own way of recognizing the harvest & no one has the corner on how to do it "properly." What is most important is that it be joyful, full of love & thanks for that which nourishes us most. Reflecting on your harvests, how will you spend this day?

Autumn Equinox meal, 2010

APPLE STUFFED PORK CHOPS WITH CIDER PAN GRAVY

1 med. chopped onion 6 tbsp. butter, divided 4 slices raisin bread, crumbled 1 lg. apple, peeled, if desired, cored and chopped 1/4 c. parsley 1 tsp. salt 1/2 tsp. sage 1/2 tsp. thyme 1/2 tsp. pepper 1 egg, slightly beaten 4 (1 1/2 inch thick) pork loin chops 1/2 c. water 2 tbsp. flour 1 c. apple cider Saute onion in 3 tablespoons butter until tender. Remove from heat. Stir in bread, apple, parsley, sage, thyme, pepper and egg. Mix well. With sharp knife, cut a deep pocket in each chop. Fill with stuffing. Fasten openings with toothpick. Cook chops in remaining 3 tablespoons butter until browned on both sides. Add water, bring to boil.Reduce heat, cover and simmer 40 minutes or until chops are tender. Remove chops to heated platter. Sprinkle flour over pan drippings, stir until smooth. Stir in cider, scraping up all browned bits. Cook, stirring constantly, until gravy thickens. Serve with chops. Serves 4.

Recipe courtesy Cooks.com. 

Roasted Butternut Squash and Pomegranate Salad

 * We added dried cranberries, delish! Thank you jenncuisine.com

 Roasted Pumpkin with Maple-Chipolte Glaze

•  Recipe to follow... when I find it!

Autumn Equinox dessert, 2010

 Roasted Pears with Cinnamon-Mascarpone Filling

• Recipe to follow... when I find it!