PaganSquare is a community blog space where Pagans can discuss topics relevant to the life and spiritual practice of all Pagans.
Finally, autumn has come to the Willamette Valley here in Oregon. I say "finally," although summer is brief enough here and most Oregonians would probably wish for a few more weeks of it. Autumn, however, is my favorite time of year and I look forward to it year-round. The early morning crispness has changed to a genuine chill that lingers through more of the day, the acorns have started to fall and the squirrels scamper after them, eager to begin fortifying their nests against the winter. The leaves have begun to turn color and soon their branches will become a canopy of gold, scarlet and pumpkin orange. It is September, and my thoughts turn to my home, my own nest, and to what fortifications I might make now to make it a welcoming and nourishing place in the months to come.
What is the center of your home, its heart? For most Americans, the answer would probably be "the television." However, hopefully that is not the case with the average pagan, and a few of you have probably guessed where I'm going with this: in traditional European pagan cultures from Greece to Scandinavia, the center of a household was the hearth. However, there is room for a little interpretation in what constitutes the hearth for you.
Living on our Pagan homestead, one of the things I've come to appreciate more than ever before is the changing of the seasons, and witnessing it on such an intimate level. I've only been able to discover this deeper exposure to it since our "Exodus". Well, it's no secret that the seasons are changing now that we're half way through August. The days are getting shorter, but what I notice more is that the morning shadows cover my gardens later each week. Also, some plants are beginning to die back, after having served their purpose and finally giving into the brutal drought we're experiencing.
Today is Lammas-tide, Lughnasadh, the festival of the grain harvest. Across the land, fields full of golden wheat, barley and numerous others have been growing tall, a feast for the eyes as they bend in the breeze, a feast for the birds, bees, mice and other creatures that run between the rows.
In centuries past, it would be entire communities who came out to help with the harvest, threshing, binding and preparing the crop to last them the winter. Fuel is needed for heat, nourishment and sustenance for livestock - without a successful harvest, a lean winter means walking the path between life and death.
These days, it's more the rumble of heavy-duty farming machinery at work that is heard as the harvest is gathered in - but it's no less valuable for that. Despite the knowledge that we can import food, fuel and whatever we need from other places, there's still the essential connection between us and the land as personified in the life of our fuel-stuffs. We celebrate it, we recognise and remember it. Children make corn-dollies, singers remember John Barleycorn.