Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored" as Samhain nears and the veil grows thin! Can you feel that shift in energy? Trust me, here it comes.
I have been very remiss in letting my three readers know about Mrs. B's Great Halloween Giveaway over at Confessions of a Pagan Soccer Mom. Every day Mrs. B gives away prizes, generously donated by creative Etsy Pagans. She also has guest blogs -- many have been very interesting -- and a haunted tour of someone else's blog. This amounts to a huge workload for her, so let her know what a great job she's doing!
Two great things about growing up in the mountains: swings and leaf piles.
My granddad hung a swing off a big oak tree at the top of the property where the ground fell steeply below it. Wow, was it ever a trip to swing out into thin air, and then back again to the hilltop! Felt like flying.
The other great thing about a mountain property is that it takes about ten minutes to rake up a humongous leaf pile. Granted, the country leaf piles would have some twigs and rocks in them -- high winds and terrain, you know -- but you could literally construct a leaf pile big enough to serve as a fortress.
When my daughters The Heir and The Spare were young, I never enrolled them in sports. Well, I did a few times at first, and then I saw how boring it was for them and me, and we quit it. Instead my kids played in the yard (small though it is) with two other girls on the block. In the fall I would rake up giant leaf piles for them, and they'd spend whole afternoons running and leaping into the leaves, throwing them around, rolling in them, and getting lost in their depths.
The neighbors would come out of their houses and chuckle as I raked leaves from the street into my yard. Isn't it supposed to be the other way around?
Right across the street, my neighbors have three huge oaks. This is not a hardship for me. I love those trees! Not only are they oaks (three different species), but they provide generous quantities of leaves for piling. It was a snap to cover my little front yard with a leaf pile of massive proportions.
Now The Heir is in college and The Spare is in high school. The girls they played with moved to North Carolina. I suppose this year, raking will become a chore -- not much of one, with such a small yard.
Then again, I am Anne. Some afternoon I may come home from school, find my street adrift with autumn leaves, grab the creaky rake, and construct a big ol' leaf pile just for me. Then I'll just sink down in it and smell that musty leaf smell and think of all the leaves falling on the mountainside at home. Perhaps I'll hear the voices of little Heir and Spare, or Granddad telling me to watch out for sharp stuff. Perhaps the veil will loosen right in the middle of that leaf pile, and time will just stand still long enough for me to appreciate all that has been.