Poet William Everson, a Catholic monk for nearly two decades, told an interviewer that he’d stopped giving public readings for a time “in order to go through a period of silence and withdrawal in order to prepare for a new phase” (Meltzer 51).
And so it is now with the garden, a moment in the turn of the Wheel of the Year I call First Fires.
Everson, who left his order but maintained an abiding faith in the sacred mysteries of Catholicism, knew well the values of quietude and daily practice. These bring energy and renewal, and Everson’s precept applies not only to the facts in the garden but also in how we regard realities such as the changing of the seasons.
It is tempting for non-pagans to see the great spectacle of a Mid-Atlantic Fall as merely a last swan song before death and sadness, but modern pagans, like our spiritual ancestors, have a different view. For us this is the time of the wise Crone and, in some traditions, a dying god who lies in his tomb until his rebirth at Winter Solstice.For those like me who follow a solar calendar instead of the Wiccan Samhain, Yule is the start of the year.
But until then, it’s time to chop wood, bank up the fire, and withdraw even further into solitude for introspection or merriment with carefully chosen company. In my home we celebrate with a few simple rituals I’ll describe here.
- First Fires Rite: I save the last cuttings of herbs from our garden to kindle a fire. Usually stems from sage, oregano, and mint will start a roaring blaze. If at all possible, I find a bit of wood left in the wood stove or fireplace from the prior year’s fires, an aspect of ritual reminiscent of ancient Yule-Log traditions. We build the fire with well seasoned wood from the woodpile, read a blessing or poetry, drink toasts to the departed summer and its harvest, and we share a meal of seasonal and, if possible, home-grown or at least locally grown food. The rite has its springtime counterpart in what others call “Vital,” a ritual of tapping the trees with a staff or wand, then bidding them to awaken.
- Putting the Garden to Sleep: I am blessed to have “brown gold,” in the form of fallen oak leaves, on our property. So near the time of First Fires I rake them (leaf blowers / vacs generate more pollution per gallon of fuel burned that several autos). Raking is good cardiovascular exercise, though I often chop the leaves first with my lawn-mower so they will decompose faster and not blow about. Then I put the leaves several inches thick in our garden and flowerbeds, like tucking in a sleeper. The leaves provide a winter mulch and, as they decay, compost to enrich the soil.
- Wassailing / Libations: One need not wait until Yule to salute the apple tree. I carry a cup of wine to the garden when I put it to sleep, and I’ll give a bit of wine to the earth with a simple blessing. Throughout the dark half of the year, I repeat this in the garden or woods, to let whatever spirits dwell there know that I remember them and thank them for leaves, firewood, good soil, and renewal.
And, come spring, they’ll give back to us. Monks like Everson knew the value of quiet. Perhaps, in our very different religious perspective, we can likewise honor the wellspring of all faiths with silence and wonder.
Blessed Mabon and Samhain, friends.
Cited:
Meltzer, D. San Francisco Beat: Talking With the Poets. San Francisco: City Lights Books.
I can’t have a fire until it gets below 40 outside otherwise all the smoke comes into the house. I would love an October fire in the house. Has to be outside until November. Thanks for the suggestions. I have plenty of time to plan.