Ahhh, there’s nothing like the feeling of knowing Fall is official and a harvest moon rises from the horizon to set the tone for the upcoming month’s colored leaves, crisp air, and pumpkin spice.
This is the time of year to metaphysically reflect on the seeds we’ve sown and dance naked under the moonlight—for prosperity, of course.
Under summer full moons, I normally take a naked dunk in the pool when the moon is high in the sky—the neighbor’s love it—again, for prosperity. It turns out that the same people who claim naked swimming for awakening the soul are also the ones that suggest to dance naked with twelve of your coven friends after the swim. But let’s be honest, I don’t have twelve friends and I didn’t pick up dog poop earlier in the day. No one needs goo squished between their toes during any kind of ritual—I guess unless you’re into that sort of thing. I’m not judging.
Anyway, while all this sounds like a wonderful evening in the open air, I have to admit, this past Harvest Moon didn’t exactly meet my expectations, at least as far as a ritual is concerned.
To be clear, the pool is at a balmy sixty-eight degrees and has an appointment for its winter hibernation next week. And as I stood in the middle of my lawn, yearning to feel the moon’s blue hue on my face, thick cloud covering darkened the land and made the poop piles harder to see.
But despite the visual image that didn’t occur, I chose to focus on the symbolic similarities of seed planting in spring and the rewards of the fall’s reaping. This concept is based on how well I tended my little seedlings throughout the summer. Did I manure the dirt for the best germination results? Did I bullshit too much? How well did I water those little love bugs? Did I limit my alcohol intake and hydrate? Did I prune as needed? How much self-care did I give myself?
Honestly, I feel I’ll eat well over the next several months. My seeds bloomed into flowering plants of abundance, creating a plentiful harvest to enjoy all winter long. For once, I did the right thing. I started something and am proud to say, I followed through with the plan. I am grateful for the wonderful people I’ve met over the past several months. We share thoughts and stories and personal sentiments. As a result, my heart will be warm in the upcoming Dark Days.
Now understand, not all the planted seeds survived. I had to uproot and discard some of my little darlings, the ones that didn’t value the dirt they lay in. They were invasive and crippled the other plants. Their removal was necessary in order to allow breathing room for the determined ones to flourish. But every farmer knows risk, knows hard work, and knows a profitable sowing season when they see one.
I challenge you to reflect on the past summer. Consider the choices you’ve made and how those choices mirrored nature as it surrounds you. Will you grow hungry because of lack of preparation, or will your hearth keep you warm this upcoming winter?
In Florida, we experience a full hour more of sunlight than in the the northern states, so we don’t really have “dark days” unless you’re referring to the political environment here and then that’s all year long. I have to say I am also grateful for the friendships I have earned over the summer months. And I’m looking forward to becoming a gardener like you, but without the sprawling acreage. Pointers are welcome!
Thank you for leaving a comment, Nancy. To answer your question, The Dark Days refers to a season in the Cycle of the Year. It begins on the winter solstice and is a time of reflection. The concept reflects the notion that the winter months are cold and desolate. In colder regions, we are forced indoors, reading, eating soup, and clustered as a family unit to fight the cold outside. It is a time for contemplating the previous year and how we would like to change in the upcoming one. Florida might not get cold, but I’ve seen the natives wearing coats and gloves in winter; so it’s safe to say that The Dark Days fall upon all of us.