Many pagans honor the old holidays (Beltane, Imbolc, Lammas, Samhain) and the solstices and equinoxes to celebrate the turning of the year. Most of these don't really resonate for me. So I thought I would set down the times of the year that stand out personally for me, when I really become aware of the turn of the wheel and the cycles of life. These are the seasons that structure my personal year.
Winter solstice. I am a creature of the sun, I can really feel it when the days shorten and darkeness gains ascendency over the day. I can feel the ancient fear as the days shorten, the plants and animals sleep, and one cannot but help wonder what would happen if the sun kept retreating and never came back. On the day that the darkness turns, and day begins once again to advance against night, I feel a powerful and holy sense of the fragility of life and the grace of redemption by which we all live.
Spring wildflower blooms. As the year brightens, I look forward to the appearance of the tiny bright wildflowers in the dry sere fields. When they all suddenly start to appear, flaring up and spreading like flames of blue, scarlet, gold, white, purple, my heart is always lifted. Most people walk by or over these tiny gems of color without even noticing them; or thnk only of spraying weedkiller. But they always are a source of joy and wonder to me, every spring. They are so exuberant and full of vigorous life, their colors so subtle and rich, their shapes so graceful and complex, that I can lay in the grass and stare at them for hours. If, in dry, dead, abandoned lots and fields such wild beauty can burst forth, what can we not acomplish if we will only strive for it?
Fall leaf turning. I love the fall. The weather is cooling and becoming wonderful to be outside again. The trees that I love and talk to are turning from rich green to a thousand shades of red, gold, and brown, as their leaves die and seem to celebrate their own death. The colors are miraculous and vivid, I have wished since childhood to have some way to hold onto those lucious colors but they fade so quickly and are gone. I finally realized that this swift fading is part of their beauty. It is a gift, to be lived and enjoyed, and then let go. This is a season of melancholy, but also of exaultation; as once again nature dies around me, blazing in fleeting beauty, I can feel the heart of nature drawing inward and preparing for its own joyous rebirth.
