A Quality of Light

I anticipate this time of the year like no other, and it's not just because we're now within a month of Nightshade's release date. It feels not unlike fate that my debut novel will be published at the heart of autumn, my favorite season and the one in which I feel the most myself.

I couldn't imagine living in a part of the world where the seasons didn't change. There's an energy to the shift that never fails to fill me with wonder. One of my favorite characteristics of autumn is the way light changes.

Spring's light sparkles, like dew on newly sprouted leaves. It's full of promise and makes me giddy. Summer's light is pure power - it warms you up and exhausts you at the same time. But autumn's light is subtle. It slides through leaves, rolling over them, seeming to almost paint them with the waning sun's very shades of gold and rust. It gleams and lingers. Walking in my neighborhood, surrounded by autumn's glow I experience profound contentment. I hardly know how to describe it, only that it makes me feel a rightness with the world unlike any other.

Today is Mabon, the autumnal equinox. The light will slip slowly into darkness from now until the Winter Solstice, reminding us of life's mysteries and the hidden workings of the spirit world. May the magic of this season bring you wisdom and joy.

Mabon

It's a day to stop and think about shifting cycles and time - Mabon, the autumn equinox. Today light and dark are in perfect balance, but tomorrow our descent into the long night of winter begins.

Autumn is my favorite season, but it's a challenging and volatile time of year. The quickening of day into night puts life into a frenzied pace, culminating that chaos that is the holiday season - which are never relaxing or restorative in the way it seems they should be.

As much as I know time will seem to speed up, carried by an unseen current that drives summer away, I still love this moment. It's the only time when I can in a space of minutes see the abundance of morning glories that still sing of languid summer and promise its return...


but feel twinges of anticipation at the discovery of pumpkinlings that whisper of harvest's bounty, bonfires, and the comfort of the hearth on chilly winter nights.
Today summer and autumn hold hands and dance, giving the world at chance to witness them in harmony before summer's fades away, still full of light and laughter, while autumn takes our hand to lead us along its darkening forest paths.

Turning of the Tide (of Light)

Posting from Chicago where I was happy to catch a glimpse of Lake Michigan. Unlike Superior (my home lake), Michigan often takes on that Caribbean aqua shade, which strikes discordant against the still-barren March landscape.

Gave a paper at the Newberry; am now wrapped in terry bathrobe at hotel. Our bathtub at home is sadly lacking in tubworthiness, so I take advantage of long soaks in deep bathtubs when I travel. This is my second bath since arriving in Chicago. Relaxed, warm, and happy (sigh).

In case you didn't notice, it's the spring equinox (Oestara for any would-be pagans out there). Welcome to the rising light side of the year in the Northern Hemisphere. Oestara is the reason that bunnies, chicks, and eggs appear in time for Easter (if you're noticing a similarity in the words that's no coincidence). In the same way of Christmas trees, pagan symbols of fertility and rebirth were incorporated into Christendom as a type of syncretism meant to win over converts by drawing together old and new holidays.

The Puritans wouldn't celebrate Christmas because they thought it was much too pagan to be a Christian holiday. They were pretty down on May Pole dancing too. Go figure.

I'll be enjoying the lengthening twilight and waiting for the trees to leaf out into that dazzling, fresh green that only appears when their tiny curls first unfold.