The Switch

The dark half of the year, the season of death, approaches.

For those of us closely aligned with the Autumn season, I think there comes a point every year (and it is probably different for each of us, & on a different day each year) when you wake up and something has turned. The bone-deep feeling that summer has begun to wane as autumn approaches.

It doesn't really have anything to do with hot weather, or lack thereof (so far, we've had a pretty mild summer in western Washington, knock on wood), but -- a certain slant of sunlight, or the way the wind sounds in the trees, or just -- something. Something crosses a threshold and suddenly, there it is, as obvious as flipping a light switch. You just know. You can feel it.

The ancient holidays known as Lammas/Lughnasadh occur around Aug 1st, celebrating the first of the year's big harvest festivals. Crops are plentiful at this time, and we might be thinking about what has come to fruition, literally and metaphorically.

For me, this year, that day of The Switch was the 25th of July. I woke up and just felt it in the air as the morning breeze came in through the window. On my way throughout the errands of the day, I came upon a small dead bird on our sidewalk. I don't know what happened to him, why he died. He looked like he was sleeping. We picked him up to place him on the far side of our yard so he wouldn't just get picked up by someone else and tossed in the trash. He deserved a dignified resting place as he becomes one with the Earth again. I placed a tiny flower by his head and blew him a kiss goodnight.