The weather yesterday was a perfect mirror to the themes and energy of Lammas; which always feels like a win on a festival day. Sticky in the golden sunshine and honeyed humidity one moment, pounded by heavy drops of rain beneath an iron grey sky the next. Feet got soggy. Umbrellas worked overtime. But still lots of joy was had.
Sun on Lammas day always reminds me that though Autumn is swift approaching its not here yet. We still have some weeks of flip-flop and summer-dress potential up ahead. The Oak King may have lost his battle, but as I once told in my Equinox tale based around the two Kings, he is not yet buried. He is slowly handing over his duties and powers to the waiting Holly King. He is crafting his legacy, ensuring we remember the gifts he gave so we might welcome him back on another day. In this slide out of Summer he does all he can to impart what is left of his fiery Sun energy so we might all reap the benefit with the coming Harvest.
But we cannot forget the rain or the dark, sneaking in on the horizon; made all the more noticeable in its opposition to our doggedly determined summer outfits . It reminds us to prepare for its arrival in the weeks ahead. The glum weather also reminds me of the Goddess in another story; the Corn King’s lover who has seen him fall on Lammas day and weeps for his loss, his sacrifice. She knows – and we all must remember – that loss of life is an intrinsic part of survival. To eat we must take life in one form or another. The rains inspire us to never forget this delicate balance, the gift of Life that the Land offers up at it’s own expense.
So, as I sit upon a bale of hay, alternately basking and being dampened by a grieving rain I remember the beauty and pain, the joy and sorrow, the gains and losses of the year. And it feels just right.