I am not an autumn person. Every year I tell myself I'm okay with autumn; that it doesn't matter that the days are getting shorter and colder; that soon winter will be here.
It's all lies. I love summer, and I never want our precious, short summer to leave.
Yet autumn is so beautiful. Look at that gorgeous photo I took at the local beach today: not a breath of wind, low tide, warm water, the tender sunlight that only comes as the sun begins his northward journey.
Even though I never welcome summer's end, there is a progression to autumn's days that makes the part of me that loves ritual happy.
It begins at Lammastide. The weather is at its hottest at this time but, if you are observant of such things {as I am}, you'll notice the sun is starting to set just that little bit later.
Some time in late February the grapes on our massive vine ripen. This makes me very happy. Then there's the start of the rugby league season {we love our rugby league in this house}. The Autumn Equinox, which is the Pagan start of autumn. Feijoa season begins. My husband's football season starts. Daylight saving ends in early April. We light the fire for the first time in early to mid April.
And so it goes ... not always in the same order every year, but close enough to feel familiar.
This year I'm as sad as always about the end of summer, but I am taking comfort in the rituals of autumn as they unfold.
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