And now it is autumn, the waning of the calendar year. The last leaves drift down from the trees. Spirits that long to be free stir at the return of Samhain, the ancient Celtic celebration of the new year that honors the sun god Saman, also known as the Lord of Death. To the ancient Celts, November 1 was the beginning of the new year. But the earth has been awake since spring. The goddess over all waits patiently to tuck her rustling blanket of burnished golds and russets over the fading green forest and hills as soon as the fruits of the summer’s sowing have been gathered. In preparation, she begins to lengthen the time the earth spends in darkness.

Some mourn the coming of autumn and, seeing only with their human minds, look upon it as a time to grieve for the dead summer. But some see deeper using all their senses and emotions, and look upon autumn as a time of preparing for the long sleep of winter before the renewal yet to come in spring. Without quietude the earth cannot ready itself to bloom forth again. All living creatures need rest during the cycle of a year in their lives. But life is unpredictable, too, and the most momentous events may happen when we are least prepare for them, even as we were expecting to find long-sought-for peace.

Last autumn, Margaret was searching for that peace that had eluded, but her dreams were full of a force of nature whose call was irresistible. She found wild turmoil instead. The earth has made a full turn once more since Margaret heard Eire’s ancient song; try as hard as she might during that year, she cannot deafen herself to it. Will she heed the summons again?

The name Margaret means pearl and she had as many layers as her namesake when she first set foot on the Isle of Inish Crag in the Irish Sea…seas also being the home of pearls, she felt at peace there as she had never felt anyplace else on earth.

But as the autumn storms blew in from the sea, they tossed her way an Irishman named after the sting of heartbreak. Though the heartbreak was not meant for her . . .When he loved her at first sight and kissed her beneath the full moon, the waiting arms of the Sidhe reached out to their brother and bound him to her forever. Under the moon and above the restless old ones, they became joined together in an embrace as old as the sea and as enchanted as the Sidhe themselves.

During the twelve moons that have waxed and waned to the sleeping and the waking of the earth, growing things have blossomed and withered, and hearts have been won and lost . . . But as the growing tranquillity of autumn paints the land in contrastingly brilliant hues . . . it will lead beyond the death stillness of winter and to the renewal of spring. Nothing is every truly lost, only waiting beneath the surface for the right time to come forth - the spirits that sleep until the Samhain celebrations call them forth; the seeds that wait under a blanket of protective earth, the love that needs only to be reawakened from its hopeful slumber to live again.

The Lesson: Patrick and Margaret, thorn and pearl, poet and healer, reaping the harvest from sowing the seeds of love.

Love Stories
Gathering the Harvest
Goddess of the Growing Green: Airmid of Ireland
Thorn
The Sidhe

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