The Ceremony of the Seasons
Friends, pictured is one of my favorite plant beings transformed by fall. Wild carrot or Queen Anne's Lace. In summer, the large white inflorescent faces of Queen Anne bloom revealing a single purple flower open at its lacy center like a dark eye looking toward the universe.
Queen Anne blooms in waves here for most of the summer, but as autumn approaches, every inflorescence ripens into a single bristled seed, curls inward, and clusters to form the shape of a bird’s nest, the purple eye a darker seed deep at its sleeping center.
I feel myself responding in kind to the turning of the season. Curling in to root down into the mysteries and quiet of autumn.
. . .
Friends, I write because I’m dropping into a 2-month ceremony soon. And I’ll be entirely off-line for that time.
I’ve longed to be recalibrated by this kind of silence. To let whatever wants to be heard speak from that space. To really listen. To be able to give myself over to a nest of silence and see what grows there.
For most of this time, I’ll be in Sicily in a remote village continuing the pilgrimage I began in spring, channeling new work and being in deep communion with the land and sea spirits there, the serpents and bees, the autumn blooming flowers, the fruits of Olive and Grape as they are pressed, celebrated and stored, ancient cavernous worship sites, and the dark volcanic matter/mother of the island, Etna. For a part of this time, I’ll be leading an oracular writing immersion in a 17th century Sicilian nunnery hugged by a forest of Pines in the mountains. Then I’ll return to the nest and continue to listen, to write.
The Sacred Loop of Reciprocity
This month, before I leave, I prepare my ceremonial offerings for Sicily. Small bundles of the Artemisias in bloom—Mugwort, Sweet Annie, and Wormwood—to dream deeply and safely with the island. For protection and gratitude: a vial of sea salt harvested sustainably along the south shore Long Island, the island that raised me. And a pouch of ground Nettles and Wild Rose petals for heart-centered nourishment.
I'll also bring a flower essence formula I plan to work with across the next 12 months — a powerful blend of lady's mantle dew, willow, hawthorn, crocus, and green jasper to fill and open the deep well within me. As well as a strong tincture of Usnea, My Lungs Are the Lungs of the Forest, to protect my immune system during this pandemic time while symbiotically weaving me into place.
. . .
The Apothecary remains open through September 18th.
And I have room for 2 flower essence consultations in September before my books close until winter.
If you have a project you're working on, some energy you'd like to move or call in, some vibrational shift you're ready for, if you'd like to usher in new blessings, better attune yourself to the magic of Autumn, or you'd like to be held by flowers, it'd be my honor to divine a flower essence formula for you.
If you’re currently working with any plant medicines and you know you'll need refills while I’m away, please do order them soon, knowing that your purchase supports me on this journey.
And if a flower essence consultation isn't right for you at this time, but you, too, hope to curl inward into the underworld magic of fall and write, dream, grieve, or vision. My autumn-to-winter allies to support me in this work are often: Queen Anne's Lace essence for second sight; for those who wish to strengthen their intuitive cores, spark cosmic or psychic sight at their third eye, lift the veil between worlds, all while remaining grounded and embodied. Chicory flower essence to release fear and trust the intuitive compass of the heart’s knowing. Bleeding Heart essence for when we are suffering from deep loss (aren't we all). And I have a few of this season’s Artemisia Trinity anointing oils left — for clearing energetic fields, visioning, relieving physical, emotional + spiritual pain, and walking between worlds. I apply this oil before writing and for dream divination.
. . .
May you find time for dreaming this fall.
Thank you for being here with me.