The moon was in her first day after the First Quarter, so her belly had only just started to grow. Apart from the swaying lantern, she was our main source of light. Silver shards scattered to the ground.
The grass was thick, we tread carefully as not to slip. The rains of the day had given way to evenings clear skies.
A fire was lit, it’s heat most welcome and its light flickered, flashed even, upon the surrounding trees.
Strider led the proceedings with reverence and respect to the season.
Dumbledore shared words of the drawing in of Winter and (for most) a time of dormancy.
I shared words of the harvest, of taking stock all we have achieved and gained this year. Inviting this to be our warming light in the dark to come.
Me and Dumbledore enacted the passing of Summer to Winter: “And so his watch has ended”. The baton passed for Winter to keep watch: “And so his watch begins.”
We joined hands, closed our eyes and drew from the Earth, from the stars and from the fire. Riding the Equinox about to come; building the fire inside.
Greenfingers shared words about this being the real celebration of harvest, more so than Lughnasadh.
Silence was torn when the painful cries of an animal were heard. A dog perhaps, a woman’s voice and then there was the quiet once more.
A gift of Oak fell upon my shoulder and so too did a gift of bird… Until I tried to wipe it off and it was in fact the shine of my Stag pin. Danceswithweasels had the best of intentions.
Food and drink were shared, me and Cymro discussed Welsh dipthongs, a celebration of harvest indeed.