Impressions of Autumn

In the Autumn when the Goddess wears leaves of Gold, Rust and Crimson in Her hair,

I think most particularly of home, hot soup, cider and fresh bread.

This is the nesting urge that Mother Hecate has imprinted in our breasts,

This is the longing to have our loved ones close at hand and safe beneath our roof.

September the sweet month with lingering summer days and deliciously cool evenings,

October the holy month with the dark night of Samhain approaching in mystery,

November the transitional month with another change of season coming our way,

These are the trappings of Autumn, of Mother Hecate's joyous feast before winter's sleep.

I love Autumn – the early Cronehood of the year,

Her perfume is wood mulch and burnt leaves,

Her cloak is a tapestry of mums, orange and black pansies and the last rose of the season,

She is initiated into the ancient wisdom by Mother Hecate and grows white-headed under winter's mantel before our eyes.

The Web Projects of Sondra Ball and Mario Cavallini