The wheel has turned again and here we are at the hinge of the year. The equinox Mabon…a day when light and dark stand equal. It is a pause, a breath, a doorway. Step outside and you can feel it in your bones, the sun leans low, the air grows cooler, and shadows stretch a little longer with every dusk.
There is a magic in this darkness, if we dare to sit with it. Our ancestors did. In the past September marked the barley harvest, the last chance to bring in wheat before Michaelmas. Across northern lands, great feasts were held to give thanks for grain and fruit, cider and honey, before winter’s hunger began. On this turning of the year, the god of light was struck down, and the dark half rose to reign. The oak and holly kings forever in battle. Yet this is no tragedy, just the pattern of things, the reminder that death is folded into life, and rest is as holy as growth.
Darkness offers its own gifts. Like the seeds buried now in cooling soil, we too are invited underground, into reflection, stillness, and the rich quiet of our own roots. The equinox whispers…you don’t always need to burn so brightly. Let the long evenings gather you in.
Look around and the earth shows her beauty in such abundance still, hedgerows studded with hips and haws, ivy flowering for the last bees, apples and squashes glowing like lanterns. It is a season that dazzles even as it fades, leaves burn into copper and crimson before letting go, each a brazen, burnished gift.
This is the heart of Mabon’s magic, to stand in balance for just a moment and honour both halves. To thank the light for its warmth, and to welcome the dark for its rest. To gather what we have harvested in our lives, not just food, but lessons, friendships, growth and place it carefully in our storehouse of memory for the winter. To remember that turning inward is not an ending, but a beginning. Things grow in the dark.
So tonight, as the sun sets and the shadows match the light, I’ll light a candle and whisper gratitude. For apples, for soil, for the kindness of rest. For the knowledge that the wheel always turns, and in turning, teaches us how to live.
Mabon blessings x
Greetings from Shropshire shadows.
A time of hay stacked in barns,
cacophony of sparrows
and teasel heads combing the field’s mist
raising the nap at their edges.
This is such a wonderful piece. I absolutely love this glorious time of year and am so looking forward to the dark, restful months 🍁🍂🍁🎑