Autumn Equinox
and the Remembering Season.
I’m not sure if it was the full moon this week, the changing season, or my ongoing spiritual awakening, but I was up well before the sun conversing with the moon. One morning there was a mist rising above the fields in an ethereal world beneath silver moonlight. Another morning it was my writing desk lit up by moon glow that stopped me in my tracks. Then there was this lugubrious feeling that generally descends on me this time of year, not letting up until after Christmas. There is a reason September rhymes with remember, because I’ve been overcome with it this week. Most of my memories are attached to feelings and emotions and that is why I struggle during this season of remembering. If spring is full of hope and new life, autumn is full of shadows, pondering, and an urge to get lost in the woods. The crickets and frogs no longer crescendo, now they’re on a low soft hum.
Maybe it’s not melancholy I feel, maybe it’s longing-yearning-pining-aching for a carefree block of time to write, wonder, and wander. I crave quiet solitude with nature and my thoughts. I feel more attachment to the earth, moon, and stars than I do with most people, and I’m learning to be ok with that. I’ve always been “too much” my whole life. Too tender-hearted, I cry too much, too full of energy and excitement at the wrong times. “You know they make medication for that.” Someone might say. I say,“Stuff your medication up your ass.” I love feeling deeply, if you don’t like it, stay clear. I’ll be just fine without you in my life.
I found a surprise Lycoris radiata blooming under my office window this week where my Grandmother Elaine planted them years ago around what was then the front porch. I decided to do some further research on the “red spider lily of death”. However, I associate them with September and the Remembering Season, not death. Did you know you often see them in cemeteries because they are poisonous and they were planted there to deter pests from digging up the graves? They are also believed to ward off evil spirits. This lovely red lily hails from China, Korea, Nepal and Japan. They are called Higanbana in Japan and are associated with farewells and remembrance of those who have passed away. During the Higan festival (a period of transition between summer and autumn), the blooming flowers serve as a moment to remember and celebrate the souls that have departed. These flowers are very much tied to their Buddhist culture as they are found outside many temples. I feel honored to find more of them around my places every year.
Since the moon is now waning, we did some planting this morning. Ken, my husband, planted turnips and mustard in his dust bowl of a garden space. The tarp did a fine job of scorching all the grass and weeds that had overtaken his summer garden. So many varieties of butterflies are enjoying the chaotic blooms of my no-till garden.
I spent some time in the high tunnel while it was cool this morning starting some more lettuce seeds and admiring the seedlings I started a month ago. I noticed a tendril of bindweed climbing up the chair at my Sit Spot. The heart shaped leaves and trumpets of pink flowers seemed to say, “Please don’t go summer, please stay.” As the day progressed, it felt as though summer was obliging it, so I eased down to my swamp where it’s always cooler.
The superbloom is just beginning on my sand hill as I drive down to the river. I found an empty chrysalis of a moth or butterfly laying on the ground and I thought to myself, “She got her wings!”, remembering the beautiful article I read earlier by a fellow nature lover. Then I looked up and saw ANOTHER golden orb weaver spider with a massive web spread between two trees in the front yard of my little swamp sanctuary. It seems the summer has been filled with spiders and snakes for me. I’ve thought long and hard about what they’re trying to tell me. I believe the main lesson is, pay attention, followed closely with keep shedding those old versions of yourself, keep moving forward and stay inspired to create.
I decided to mosey on down to the river to see if the water level was high enough for a kayaking journey. I saw the row of red spider lilies blooming in front of Grandpa’s old river house. Somewhere a barred owl is watching me and asks quietly, “Who cooks for you?” Alas, the water is only ankle deep in my Sit Spot behind the house. That didn’t stop me from getting my ankles wet and maybe my crown chakra too. I watch schools of silvery minnows scatter in front of my feet as I wade through. There is pure healing energy flowing in that shallow stream. The ‘hoopee river washes all your worries and anxieties away in her crisp tannic waters with the white sandy bottom.
I hope you enjoyed this season turning offering. In case you missed it, I had an essay published in Salvation South last weekend. It included some of my photography as well.
Thank you for reading and being on this journey with me. How has the full moon and autumn equinox affected you this week?
Blessings y’all,
💜B💜
So evocative of place, feels like the South Georgia where I grew up. Thank you for your words and photos and the sound of your feet in the water!
Loved this and I can relate to some of those feelings. Beautiful photos, too.