The Making of Delevan House #5.1

Living on a rural ranch has taught me a genuine appreciation for nature and the night sky.

Not that I didn’t always love watching clouds, but things hit you differently when there are no city lights to obstruct your view. While sitting around a crackling fire pit in September, you can hear the sounds of coyotes and owls and even imagine a few unspeakable possibilities.

My favorite moon of the year is on September 10, 2022. The Harvest Moon.

Growing up in Upstate NY, the entire pre-Halloween season begins after Labor Day for those living in the US, and the northeast is ripe with vibrant colors, a hint of decay, and the heavy scent of what’s to come in the air. Crops here in Texas and there are harvested, and the damp earth, no longer cloaked in shades of green and gold, is forced to give up secrets, sometimes buried deep in the furrows, other times lurking right below the surface, where an accidental kick of a boot can set things in motion.

It’s a time of transformation, both contemplative and unsettling.

Some give thanks for a successful year of growth, harvest, and look forward to the peace and rest ahead; others are focused on making sure future plantings, both literal and in their lives, will come to fruition, so personal or collective offerings are made.

I open all my doors, burn sage or palo santo, and sometimes, depending on how the air and creatures are moving and feeling and my intuition, I may even salt a doorway or window with restraint. One must be careful when using intentions.

The land I live on is familial and full of dark stories and secrets. My house is over a hundred years old, and at times, when the light shifts, I catch a fleeting glimpse of things best left to rest.

They may be rituals as simple as the burning of a candle and a warm salt bath for cleansing at the full moon, or there may be requests and demands of a more insidious nature that some must meet.It depends on beliefs, culture, or individual, or maybe even an entity, religion, or, yes, a curse that must be appeased to avoid dire consequences in this harvesting time.

Many are bound to such things in their lives to the extent that nothing can prevent nature’s wheel from turning and continuing to grind the grains without following some carefully forged paths of protection and talismans. Altars are dusted, and words are recited in hopes that all transformations will be for good.

Our village of Babd also celebrates the harvest in grand style!

It’s the most crucial time of the year for anyone residing in or near Delevan House.

As the wind blows harder, the whispers begin. If you listen closely, you can hear names and prayers in the flutter of dark wings. It’s best to close your window and admire the unusual night sky, especially the lights on the horizon, from a distance.

Light a candle, salt your doorways and seek advice on which herbs to bundle and burn for protection. There’s always someone able to advise which are best if the price is right.

It’s the harvest, after all, and time to reap, sow, and possibly even fear what may come.

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