Michaelmas

Good morning,

The autumnal equinox has arrived and we are now officially into the fall season. Here, in New England, there are so many attributes to the season. The nights are crisp for sleeping, the days still warm enough to feed the garden, and there are no bugs to drive you indoors in the evening. It is my favorite time of the year to sit out on the patio and enjoy the garden, the birdsong, and the cloud formations. Later in the evening, the stars seem to be making a new, and even more spectacular showing. This is the time when the heavens begin to shift as we move toward winter.

Michael the Archangel by Guido Reni, Santa Maria della Concezione, Rome, 1636

On the twenty-ninth of September, the ancient European festival of Michaelmas is celebrated. It is one of my favorite festivals. As the days shorten and we experience increased darkness, it was believed that the forces of evil were more present. The Archangel Michael was thought to have fought courageously against these forces. There aren’t many festivals that speak strongly to the theme of courage. Here in New England, as we move toward winter, we need courage.

There are challenges ahead. We are all busy tucking in our houses and gardens, with the hope that they will come through the winter safely. Storm windows and doors are secured, extra insulation is added, the woodpile is stacked, and the oil tank is filled. In the garden there is much to be done. The roses need attention to prevent winterkill, the withering stalks need to be cut back, and the leaves need clearing.

Sometime in later September or early October, a wonderful neighbor will drive to the beach and fill the back of his truck with seaweed to use as mulch for the roses. Some evening soon, he will pull up in front of the house, bringing his good cheer and a giant load of seaweed. The smell of the sea will permeate everything. He will take out his pitchfork and load the seaweed onto the mulch pile. At eighty something, he is a miracle. After I pile the seaweed around the roots of the roses, the seaside aroma will waft up for days. There is a hedge of pink roses under the bay window and every time I leave the house, I will smell the beach. It has become one of my favorite autumn rituals.

This morning, I awaken to heavy rain. It is still dark but I can hear it on the roof. It is a comforting sound. The garden is being watered, the well is filling up, and the grime is washing away. I can’t help but think of the coming snow, the shoveling, the treacherous driving, the ice, and the power outages. As I think about the Michaelmas festival, the painting by Guido Reni at Santa Maria della Concezione in Rome comes to mind.

It is a depiction of Archangel Michael slaying or, as some believe, taming the devil. Facing the winter season is a bit like this painting. I think of his courage, as he faced what seemed to be an insurmountable challenge. The challenges we face as we look toward winter are not only of survival, they are largely of the inward kind. The lazy, dreamy days of summer are over and it is time to bring those dreams to the fore. Suddenly, everything begins again.

Courses are offered, the library schedule ramps up, new projects are scheduled at work, and political work comes fast and furious as the election nears. It is a challenge to find the balance between activity and reflective time. Early rising becomes even more important for me because it is the only time for inward work.

The sun has somehow risen beneath the cloud cover and the rain has slowed to a soft misting. It is Sunday morning and there is time for a slow entry into the day. In the way that the squirrels gather their acorns, carry them to their cache, and bury them for winter survival, this morning, there is time to gather the courage of Michaelmas, to help carry us through the winter.

September 21, 2014