Summer is long past and Samhain is just around the bend. I can smell Winter in the air, feel her in in my bones. But before the crack of leaves becomes the crunch of snow the ancestors will walk. Even now they fill the winds and whisper through our hair, as we rush from door to door in our feeble attempts to avoid the harsher side of life.
Tonight I go to a Goth Ball. On the surface it is a fun pre-Hallowe'en party. Below the surface are weavings and tangles and webs of connection. The darkness simmers there. We play with it, dip our fingers in, knowing that it will not reach a boil. Not tonight, not in that venue.
In two weeks there is the Samhain ritual. We will journey to the lands of the dead and visit with our ancestors. We will step through the gate then back again. The following morning, a more academic overview of Samhain, tucked into 20 minutes. Then it is Trick or Treat night, one of my favourite times. Running through the Autumn in the dark, children laughing and screaming, having a too brief moment with the magik. We'll come home to a fire in the back, and private time spent with our ancestors. Honouring them and learning from them, telling stories in our attempts to re-member.
Sometime between now and then the garden will be turned and laid to rest for the Winter. The soil will sleep, dressed in compost beneath the snow, ready for the warmth of sun in the spring to waken it. But that is too far ahead and my thoughts are nowhere near the warm and sun at this moment. I think of cold, of boots on snow, the weight of winter coats and hats and scarves and mittens. Then I reel my thoughts in.
Tonight is the night of the Goth Ball, with Darkness just below the surface. I am choosing my outfit carefully, based on who I want to be. I might just bring a change of clothes with me, since I am feeling many of my facets today.
