My gods. It just gets earlier every year.
Oh, not the stores. I gave up on those years ago. Samhain stuff going up? Must be September.
What's next? Jack o' lanterns at Lunasa?
Oh, well. In its own way, commerce helps turn the Wheel.
But at home? Folks, we're not even out of the Harvest thirtnight yet. Isn't it a little early for orange lights and skeletons?
Don't get me wrong; I love Samhain as much as the next guy.
But then—let's remember—comes Winter.
And for that, quite frankly, I can wait.
A while back the youth of Zuñi pueblo put together a traveling show of traditional dances. Before they hit the road, they danced for the elders, to get their blessing.
The elders watched the show. This one you can do, they said, and this one. That one, no. That one you can only do in season.
The things that we do are powerful. They turn the Wheel, which is our job.
But there's such a thing as turning the Wheel too fast.
I stand in front of the Halloween house, with its flashing orange strobes, mock tombstones, and giant inflatable pumpkins.
Samhain in September.
Still, in my heart of hearts, I can't help but admire, a little.
I mean, really.
Talk about pious.