Summers End

The summer is at its end; and certainly it went out in a rage.

Now is the time to take stock of the year that was, and the year that is to be.

Bring in the harvest.

Make ready the slaughter.

Feast at the closing of the year.

With the fire of your hearth, keep a vigil for the fallen.

For those who now abide beyond the veil, may yet need a light to guide them home.

A warm welcome.

A hearty meal.

If only for one night.

Give praise to those whose bones we tread apon.

Keep their love in your heart.

Their memory in your words.

Their legacy in your deeds.

Begin again to tell tales, weave wonders and speak of bygone days.

Long ago, or maybe not so.

Stories connect us to the gods, to the land, and to each other.

Three candles to light any darkness: Truth, Nature, Knowledge.

Yet what lights the candles?

Fire.

Of our hearth.

Of our head.

Of our inspiration.

Fires of protection.

For Ourselves.

For our Kin

For our Kith.

A gift from the goddess.

Gentle and fair cheeked.

Patroness of poets and smiths both.

Fires until February, for most longer still.

To keep the frost at bay.

To see in the season of the dark.

To flourish in the absence of the sun.

Summer is ended.

Welcome the winter.