Autumn is my favorite season. I revel in it. I read somewhere once that Hel’s kingdom was forever a misty autumn, and whether that is true or not, it makes me reluctant to grab hold of a sword when I near death.
Loving autumn is a strange thing. Everything is in decline, in decay. Entropy is winning. Those bright leaves? That’s the result of trees trying desperately to stave off the inevitable winter. It’s a season of death, and I love it.
I’m not the only one. Almost everywhere I look people are eagerly talking about Mabon and baking. As soon as this cough clears and I am actually, truly fever-free, I plan to make a whole passle of cranberry-orange scones to herald the fall.
Why are we eager for decay? I think it is because the summer saps so much from us. We are busy, the heat makes us tired, we have longer days to contend with in the summer and we just need a rest. Fall feels like that. Even though it’s typically a hectic time of year for Pagans. I don’t know a single Pagan who has any time to spare in October.
As much as I bemoan that the stores already have Halloween stuff out, I am more than ready for fall. Bring it on!
And now I’m going to take some meds, get some food in me, and try to watch that awful polyamory show. I may not even have the heart to snark. I may just rant in-between blowing my nose…