My name is Teresa – the reaper, the harvester. This is my time.
The heat of the summer is on the retreat and there is just a touch of color sneaking into those sugar maple leaves, Autumn has arrived. Blessed Be!
I have taken the time to learn a simple tune on the soprano recorder to play a tune that always comes to mind for me at this harvest time. I first heard the Bardic chant sung in round by Libana, the author is listed as unknown and tune original.
Autumn time, red leaves fall,
While the weeping sky looks over all.
Demeter sadly walks the land,
The Dying grasses in Her hand.
Thus comes to mind what is dying and making way; the sun, spent crops, bad ideas make a healthy void for the growth of another time.
I am reflecting and grateful for the foods that have nourished me, the educated hands that have healed me, the intelligent insights that have been muse to my art and the scorching fire-like passions that drive me on physically. As this solar year turns and the day yields to night, I will reap those golden ripe and nutritious seeds, guard them and dutifully plant again.