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Pretty much everything that you really need to know about paganism, you can learn from the novels of Rosemary Sutcliff.

Thanks to her, I—a little tow-headed kid in suburban 1960s Steeltown, USA—grew up knowing about Samhain and Beltane, Horned Gods and Kings who Die for Corn. Each year at Samhain, I pour to her hallowed memory.

Recently, rereading her novel The Lantern Bearers, I came across a poem in which a Woman of the Other Side, one of the Undying, the Lordly Ones, calls from That Land, the Land of Youth, to a mortal listener here in our world. In the haunting images and bright enameled colors of the Celtic Otherworld, she calls, and the birds of Rhiannon sing.

Song of the Woman of the Sidhe

To Oisín*

The apple tree blooms white

in the Land of the Living;

the shadow of the blossom

falls across my door stone:

a bird flutters in the branches, singing.

Green is my bird

as the green earth of men,

his song is forgetfulness.

Listen, and forget the earth.

 Cross-cut, the apple

(sacred fruit of witches)

reveals its secret star.

I saw a squirrel with a newspaper this morning.

No, seriously. I actually did see a squirrel with a newspaper.

Well, with a sheet of newspaper, anyway.

In the first hour after sunrise, before people are up and about, the city belongs to the squirrels. (I actually groaned when I saw where the Sun came up today: already so far South of his Northern-most Midsummer rising, rapidly approaching due East and the Equinox.)

At that hour, it was just me and the squirrels. I'd gone out to collect a case of apples: the next best thing to having an apple tree yourself is to have picking rights on someone else's.

That's when I saw the squirrel. Actually, in the still morning I heard it before I saw it. Compared to a squirrel, a full sheet of newspaper is huge, but the squirrel was doing his best to drag the awkward thing along. Unfortunately, he was trying to walk with one forefoot on the ground and the other on top of the sheet, and not having an easy time of it.

A squirrel with a newspaper? Yep, it's that time of year. Sun going South: Winter coming. Now, as the apples are picking, is time to start insulating that dray of yours with all those good air-trapping things like leaves and sheets of newspaper, that are going to keep you warm through the cold to come.

(Good old English. What other language has a specific name for a squirrel's nest?)

The squirrel lining its nest, me gathering the apples that I'm going to cook down into the applesauce that will sweeten the long nights ahead.

An apple a day has many health benefits and tastes good too! As I write this, I can smell the applesauce cooking in my slow cooker. Made from unpeeled, cut apples, and simmered a while with half cider and half water, to cover, my applesauce needs no further seasoning or sweetening. Once cooked, I put it through my trusty food mill—I picked mine up at a yard sale, however they are available both in stores and on the internet. The money you save on canned or otherwise processed applesauce will soon pay for the food mill and your applesauce will be more nutritious.

This easy peasy recipe will result in one of the most useful items in your pantry which can be used in your cookery, as a daily health drink household cleanser, skin and facial toner, a hair rinse and doubtless dozens of excellent ideas. Hippocrates, the founding father of medicine in ancient Greece, taught that he depended on two medicinal tonics, honey and vinegar. Apple cider vinegar lowers cholesterol and blood pressure and helps strengthen bones.  Best of all, this costs mere pennies to make as you are using the cores and peels only from the apples. Bake a couple of pies while you brew up a tonic to health booster. When you add herbs to vinegar, you are enhancing the healing power for the best of both worlds.  All you need is:

 8 organic apple cores and peels

Consider the apple tree and its ways.

Early in summer, it sets as much fruit as it can.

Later on, it drops many—even most—of those hard little unripe apples.

With what it can draw from Earth, Sun, and Thunder—the Deep Gods of the witches—the tree has only so much main—energy—at its disposal. The resources available to the tree to nurture its apples are limited. With what it has, it can produce either many small, or a few select, apples.

As I rake up fallen green fruit, I reflect. The Craft is an apple tree. Why do so many leave?