When I go out to the garden these days there are more yellow leaves, more flowers gone to seed. The temperature is fooling me about where we are in the cycle of the seasons. My plants worship the sun and the path of Helios takes him past their garden less than it did just a few weeks ago. The heat feels like July. The plants know it’s September.
When we get to know the ways of the earth, of the plants in the garden, of the trees in our areas and in the mountains, when buds will open, when leaves will fall, we find the earth teaching us to take life as it comes. Life in the garden is right here, right now. Every day is different. Something got bigger, a flower finished and dropped off, another Morning Glory leaf turned yellow. Don’t move! A tiny yellow bird is on the birdbath drinking. Three sips and he’s gone. Just like life – we have to be aware and we have to appreciate the things that bloom and grow and fly through our lives. We enjoy the flower that is today. And we feel the passage of time.
This is that bittersweet moment in the garden. It was so glorious! But now the leaves are turning yellow and water cannot change that. It’s time to start thinking about the next season. Time to start saving the last of the seeds. Time to dig and share plants with friends. Soon it will be time to cut the plants to the ground and take down all the dying vines. The Crone is walking through my garden, gently getting it ready for the winter. Perhaps this is why September is always so glorious. We sit on the line between the beauty that was summer and the coming rest period of winter, and here in the “in-between” it is orange and yellow, it is crunchy and prickly. The harvest is coming in to sustain us through winter with sweet apples and colorful squash. The work is different. It’s taking away, it’s harvesting in, it’s burning the unneeded. Like all the seasons and all the days, the Earth reminds us that this day is the one I have available to use and enjoy.
The plants are the small, easily noticed parts of our world that we can rely on to keep our minds grounded in the present. We watch the moon wax and wane to mark time. But I think that being Pagan is a strong part of what keeps me grounded as well. Most religions have a rotation of holidays that they use to tell the tales of their faith. But my religion is an old religion. My Sabbats belong to the earth, not to a collection of myths. My old religion has myths to celebrate the turning of the Wheel but the stories do not define it. The Earth defines it. The Sea, the Moon, the Sun. The Earth turns, the Moon turns and tugs the Sea, the Galaxy turns, and the Sun gives life. These are the changing seasons, the life and death of all things. That is my religion. The myths and stories that help me celebrate these great powers are my Sabbats.
Give yourself the gift of getting in touch with the turning of the year. Find yourself in the cycle of the seasons. Touch the great Wheel of the Year as it moves through your life, a touchstone in the passing of the days that spin out faster each year. Crunchy, brown, yellow days will bring us Mabon. I can’t wait to harvest the pumpkins. Where is that squash soup recipe?
The Sabbat of Mabon is just around the corner! Don’t miss it. Eight special Sabbats a year to come together with community and mark the passage of time. May your coming days be filled with the power of the changing season, the Earth, and the love of those you hold dear.
