Sabbats, Seasons, and Tarot Spreads

We’ve come to a new month, and even though the season itself hasn’t changed, something in the air is most definitely different. In the northern hemisphere, there’s a chill in the air. We’ve had a bit of frost here and there, but mostly the days have still been sunny and pleasant. No more. It’s cold and damp. Darkness comes early. I’m getting that “let’s close the doors and hunker down” feeling.

It’s different, of course, for those on the other side of the world. “Summer is icumen in…” as an old, old song says, and go ahead and click the link. I dare you!

I don’t know if our down-under friends feel a sudden change when November 1 rolls around on the calendar, but for me, everything seems to change overnight, as October bids farewell and November moves in.

I recently read about the “voices” of November — again, speaking of those we hear in the “top” of the world. We so often think of winter as a time of silence, but the weeks leading up to it are filled with familiar sounds.

The wind rustles the leaves in the trees. Sometimes it’s barely more than a gentle whisper; other times the wind roars like a banshee. We often have thunderstorms with “the gods playing noisy games” in the heavens.

And all those leaves that fall? Oh, what delicious sounds they make as we walk through them. I love grabbing a heavy sweater or light jacket and walking one of our nearby hiking trails, shuffling my feet through the leaves. I’ll always remember, too, the year we had a pair of brown thrashers visit us. What fun to listen to them truly “thrashing” through the leaves along the edge of the house.

This is also the time of year when geese head south, and what a thrill to hear them honking as they form their V-shape and fly through the brilliant blue skies. How do they do it’s time to go? How do they find their destination? Just another mystery and miracle of nature.

Those who live near wooded areas may also hear the sounds of turkeys gobbling. If you’ve ever gone walking through the woods early in the morning and had a flock of turkeys suddenly rise up and take to the sky, you know how noisy — yet beautiful — they can be.

November also brings one of the most haunting bird calls of all — the wise old owl. His hoot-hoot call can send shivers down the spine. Yet at the same time, that familiar autumn voice can be comforting and soothing.

Indeed, there are many voices in November, and I love listening to them all. For me, November is a bit like a “last hurrah” of autumn before the ice and snow comes and shuts things down. A few weeks from now, the lakes and rivers will freeze over. Heavy snowfall will make it difficult to even think about getting out and going places. I don’t like winter, even though I can see the beauty in it.

I know that winter serves its purpose in the natural world, and in our human world, as well. We need time to rest, time to withdraw, time to turn our attention to hearth and home, to celebrate holidays with those we love.

But first comes November. It’s a time of looking back and looking ahead. A time to think about past, present, and future. A time to appreciate the colors of Mother Nature and to listen to the many voices she speaks with at this very special time of year.