The autumnal equinox arrives at 3:50 am September 23, 2019. Sun and moon hold equal temporal sway.  Marking the flow of golden late summer sun into the oranges and reds of fall gleaming in full  harvest and hunter’s moonlight.


A day of celebration that stretches back millennia. 

Dancing around my kitchen. Bubble-blowing ballet in the back yard (if neighbours are out). Tai chi movements. Honeynut squash for supper. Listening to autumnal music. Thinking of friends, grateful for having them in life. Honouring wise women. Petting bees. Cleaning the koi pond.

And sharing some previous posts:

* shades of autumn * (September 2010)

[T]he autumnal equinox ushers in my favourite season and months:

September surprises and fruits of the harvest: pears turning golden yellow; squash in all shapes, sizes, and colours: turbans, crooked necks, mini-pumpkins; dodging dropping acorns along oak-lined paths; sighs and laughter on school playgrounds; electric  blue skies with warming splashes of sunlight

October delights: fresh, see-your-breath mornings; landscape of reds, golds, yellows; first taste of crisp, sweet old variety apples in colors that mirror the autumn; kicking up storms of multi-colored leaves; laughing, costumed children reveling in the freedom of disguise; the promise of winter snows and the rebirth of spring

November is a magical month; it hints at the snowy whiteness of winter but reminds me of the glorious colors of autumn just passed. There are the special smells of Thanksgiving: bubbly, homemade cranberry sauce with maple syrup, roasting turkey, herbed stuffing, sweet aromas of apple and pumpkin pies. Gatherings of friends and family to share food, stories, and memories. A day of good friends, good conversation, and good times. But, most of all I love the rituals of birthdays: the picking and hiding of gifts; the exquisite excitement of unwrapping; the bouquet of autumn flowers; the helium balloons, and especially the carefully chosen dessert of choice: pecan pie, or chocolate cake or cheesecake. Served with ice cream of course!

* sunrise volcano * (September 2012)

She stood by the window, watching the sun explode out of the cloud volcano. Pure pulsing energy pushing skyward. Etching the deepest orange against the window, creating stain glass patterns, she felt the raw emotion of nature’s dark and light.

Always feardom of night; broken will and sweating by noises heard; visions conjured. Swept up by north winds and hunter’s moons. Lost in shadow forests. Caught in webs of nightmares.

Sunlight illuminated the darkness corners. Drove evil back into caverns. Created flowers and apples. Felt warm against night-cold skin. Revealed safe paths through the brambles.

She smiled her morning smile, pulling the orange aura into her soul. It felt sustained and glowing. With the sunrise came completeness. With the sunrise came life.  Alchemy of light magic cast aside the dark arts.

One more sunrise, and the distance was growing. Was this the moment, this the time she would explode upwards; sailing on the sea of streaked orange and grey, red and black. Reaching higher than the mountains. Touching the equinox sky.

* sweaters and spice * (September 2014)

She sat on the porch, hands around a mug of cocoa, gently rocking in the old wicker chair. Fall was her favourite time of the year. Watching the gradations of green foliage turn to burnished ancient gold, to fire bright red, to crystalline amber; playing childhood games that required jumping into the piles of neatly raked leaves and sending handfuls skyward. When she was tall enough, she was responsible for creating the piles of leaves to be destroyed by her younger brother and sister.

Fall meant wrapping herself in hand-knit sweaters, hand-me downs from one generation to the next. The rasp of wool against her neck reminded her, this was only a wonderful, magical moment in the cycle of the year. Breath would hang in the apple crisp air; frost outlining the bedraggled garden; hats mandatory, not a fashion statement.

The aroma of pumpkin pie, spicy and rich, couldn’t be contained by the house. She sighed one of those contented signs only autumn could bring. She stretched like a cat in the sun, lapping up every ray that shone down. Time for more cocoa, and a slice of pumpkin pie; she liked days when the big decision was ice cream, whipped cream, or both.

* autumn’s deliverance *

( posted, with title added, September 2016; originally written one fall day in the late 1970s)


falling apart to

cold, dead


running from the wind

* fall[ing] into leaf-peeping * (an elfje; September 2017)


autumnal woods

nature paints trees

with changing brush strokes


images from pixabay: Chiqitamj; max benidze; max pixel; pixel 2013