Now it’s Samhain

Or Halloween, if you prefer. I generally don’t mind. Halloween is universal, I guess, and instantly links people to candles in vegetables, tales around the fire, thin lines between worlds. As well as terrible nylon costumes, horror film franchises and bird-snaring fake cobwebs. You might guess that none of these appeal to me: I like suspense not horror, wool not nylon, and real cobwebs.

I once worked in a hotel - supposedly haunted but that’s by the by - and a woman phoned wanting to book a room (this was in the pre-internet-days, my jaded lambs). “Is it properly old,” she asked in awed tones. “Like really old, with beams and fireplaces.” I could only surmise that this was her first ever romantic trip away (she was booking the four-poster) and she wanted to make sure the ambience was exactly right. I was 18 and gauche and without people skills - these are still somewhat lacking, to be fair.

“Oh yes,” I replied with eagerness and not a little sarcasm because, 18. “The beams even have 16th Century cobwebs.”

A resonant silence and then the dial tone. She never did call back. I still sometimes wonder what happened to her. Is she still with that person? Did they get to stay in an old place? Did she ever get to grips with teenage sarcasm?

*Stokesay Castle. Definitely haunted. Is that person even real? (yes)*

But back to the topic at hand, Samhain. It surprises some people, but I don’t go all out for this festival: candles yes, but candles all the year. A carved vegetable, maybe. Reread Dracula, definitely. I do make a meal for the departed and leave it outside, along with a dish of salt and a dish of water (let us not dwell on the fact the neighbourhood cats probably eat it). I do draw the tarot and reflect on the year gone (Samhain is the pagan New Year, according to lore. No, I don’t know whose lore, just Lore in general), and this year I’ll be taking part in a drumming circle journeying with Elder.

I love Elder. It’s such a giving tree: flowers in the spring, berries in the autumn, with a foliage that whispers and glistens. There are three of them on my allotment and the birds love them too, even the ones that have fallen. Elders are notoriously weak and generally topple after a few years. They are not a tree to climb, but a tree to honour and give thanks to.

I’ve just heard that I have permission to plant some fruit trees at the allotment, so my year has been made. 3 cherry, 3 greengage and 3 apple. The only caveat is that they must be dwarf rootstock, which may limit my choices. It’s frustrating but the council are still clearing plots where trees have been allowed to take over, becoming brittle and unproductive, whilst preventing anything else from being grown and taking a highly-sort-after plot out of the loop, so I understand.

And its yet another reason for a move to the country. This is a discussion that will run and run in our house. I’m desperate for horizons that don’t end in more houses, a dog of my own and a garden big enough for Proper Trees; the cats are desparate for a space that doesn’t include ten other neighbourhood cats and the ever present threat of cars. The where is limited whilst there are ageing parents to keep an eye on and run to doctors appointments. Suffice to say, it will not be Skye. Even I know that being ten hours away is not feasible.

And I’m back up there in March anyway for a brief research trip. The research being my need to check I didn’t imagine the place.

October is a planning month for me: a time to reflect on achievements over the year and to ponder goals I might like to set myself for the next. These are goals for the home, the heart and the head as I believe these are the most important to tend to, particularly now. What needs doing around the home, what is optional and what is essential? What will I need to achieve these? What can I deal with myself?

What does my heart want me to do: last year it was learn Gaelic, go to Skye, start creating again. Big ticks against all three! I don’t know what this year’s are yet, but I’ll ask myself three questions: what will I need to achieve these, how can I make space for them in my life, what do I hope they will bring?

And for my head, last year it was to quit smoking and get stronger. Ticks all round! This year, my head is already sending me out some strong signals but I don’t rush these. I’ll sit with them for a while longer and then ask myself those same three questions. Some years, the head and the heart overlap; some years, all three do and I love when life provides synchronicity like that. I don’t know yet if this year will. That’s part of the fun of the planning.

*Oh yeah, definitely haunted barn doors at Avoncroft.*

I read something recently about how the life span of a woman can be split into four. Now, this is interesting. I’m sure you’ve all heard of the three: maiden, mother and crone, which is nice and round and three is symbolic in all sorts of ways, but it never sat easily with me, less so the older I have got. There always seemed to be a big gap between mother and crone, the latter in particular didn’t feel like it fit. And then I read about another option: Maiden, Mother, Queen, Sage.

Oh, now we’re talking! Queen: that wonderful, powerful part of life between 40 and 60! And Sage? Wise woman, wise one, all seeing, all knowing. Sage is a good colour and a good term.

Right now, I’m solidly in my Queen phase of life and loving it. Boundaries are slotting into place, I make space for my passions rather than giving in to those of others, I’m starting to engage with the wisdom of the Crone/Sage and revelling in the power of being a woman of this age.

For me, this circle of four sits more completely within me and my ways of thinking. We have four seasons, after all, and it feels just right that Queen is the reflective, transformative Autumn of it all.

Enter Autumn