It was upon a Lammas Night...

Here we are again. 

Lammas is here and the elemental tides are shifting.  We've crowned the Sun in his glory, but everyone at the party knows that the sickle is coming.  The sickle always comes.  We've danced this dance before.  That the dance might one day stop is what keeps us coming.

Traditionally, in the days of yore, some rather backbreaking work would be done in the fields to get ready for winter.  Outside my window to the east, I've watched that work being done for weeks.  The tractors make the work less difficult, and starvation isn't the pressing concern it used to be.

Then again, maybe not.  We're starting to see, on a big scale, what happens when you take without replenishing the system.

As we start plucking from the web those things we've woven into it, Lady Moon is renewing Her face, offering us a chance to plant some new seeds, to weave some new threads. 

Paradox.  One of the many things I love about the Craft.

For me, this night is one of reflection.  Seventeen years ago, athame in hand for the first time, I plucked the fruit from the tree and began weaving some threads of my own.

So ask yourself:  Where are you?  Stuck in the warp or the weft?  Did you water enough or neglect to remove the weeds?  And what new threads do you want to weave?

Get to Work.


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