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HARD FROST TONIGHT


This afternoon is goodbye to the rusty red petunias, the few yet not ripened Golden Hat tomatoes and the herbs. All are showing their age. There is a sadness about it. Tomorrow will be the end of the Celtic Season, Lughnasa, and the beginning of Samhain. Father Scott has challenged me to write about Samhain from the perspective of my age.  It is on my mind a lot.  


And so began my attempt to put Samhain into words that did not seem to want to come. Thought about Celtic women sorting seeds and quilting during the shortened days and preparing for spring. Thought about resting. Just resting. About how we in our senior communities tell stories until we bore our listeners. We talk about the past a lot. We think about the past a lot, (trying to reconcile old “stuff?). Maybe because we really have no long-range planning to think about. But this is not Samhain.  

Our Saint Andrew’s Singers were ready to present our Christmas Concert. Christine, our energetic talented director, in a black-sequin suit, was a bundle of nerves. Ready or not, we were excited and ready.  


Watching the large meeting room begin to fill slowly. Wheelchairs finding places to park; walker wheels locking with other walker wheels; seats filling until the room was bursting.  I was concerned about the gigantic red poinsettia I had purchased to present to Christine that kept moving from place to place and further away. Our resident piano accompanist was playing Christmas songs. There was an atmosphere of anticipation. Suddenly it was clear. I could see it. This is Samhain.  

  

Baritone soloist who has Parkinson's, worries us as he shakily goes to the mike to sing. Tenor, who cannot remember from one week to the next that he has a solo to sing, hasn’t forgotten his magnificent voice training once he is at the mike, music in front of him.

  

Surely we were better singers at one time. But still, all of us, giving of ourselves to one another. I watch the audience, many joining us, smiling, singing, heads bobbing in rhythm, a few showing no expression at all.  


Every one of our group brings some seed of musical skill. Christine has nurtured those seeds. We have grown. Our harvest is ready. All of us in the room bringing a gift to share. We are not ready to sit back and relax. We are ready to celebrate. We are ready to look forward to another year and new music that will challenge us. 


Samhain comes after the seeds have been planted; the crops have grown full and bountiful (or not), and harvest rewards have been reaped. Samhain comes as days shorten and the work of prepping for survival is complete. The cows and sheep are down from their mountain pastures; the storerooms are full; the cheeses are made; the wine is fermenting; apples and root vegetables are stored in their winter bins; the sauerkraut and kimchi are salted down. It’s time to give thanks and to celebrate. And here come the celebrations: Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, Hanukkah, a New Year; Winter Carnivals. Music and decorations. Glühwein and Hot Spiced Cider. Donuts and Jack-O-Lanterns, Trick or Treating (the Celts did it). Thanksgiving Dinner. Candy Canes and Cookies. Candles to light and trees to decorate. Are we going to bed when the ball drops at Times Square or waiting for midnight where we are? 


Samhain is how you see it: a time to sit back and rest and dwell on past seasons; a time to give thanks, to celebrate; a time to look forward to the cycle of a new season, to a new Celtic year.


 Shared By: Ann Dolbier

Celtic Way Contributor & Board Member  

 

 

1件のコメント


Gary Davidson
Gary Davidson
2月04日

Thanks, Ann, your post uplifted me this morning. As I was reading it I began to hear the word in your voice, delightful. -Gary

いいね!
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