Autumn Equinox Bunting

I've come to the conclusion that summer is garbage.

Which leaves me gutted, because that distinction was previously granted to winter, and I can't go around fully despising an entire half of the year, especially when they're in alternating quarters.

It's also a sign of ageing, I think. Summer was the absolute best growing up. Freedom from the daily horrors of school and all that.

And, of course, climate change.

I distracted myself by hyperfocusing on bugs for several weeks, which are abundant in the hot months.

BUT here is southeastern Ohio, Lughnasadh marked a shift from the abhorrent humidity of June and July, late August into September saw deciduous trees' leaves changing color quickly and early. And then it was fall!

I've been gradually leaning into the Wheel of the Year over the past eight years or so. Slowly letting myself embrace something vehemently condemned from the pulpits of my youth.

This year, I have pretty much gone full eclectic pagan/druid/hedge witch, which has resulted in such a grounded-ness and sense of peace and stability that I never got from the pulpits, nor from my Eastern philosophic meddlings, nor from curmudgeonly apathy.

I now have a pantheon of archetypal deities to invoke and evoke whenever I need something to lean on. I feel less weird about addressing my ancestors with gratitude and concerns. I'm compelled to learn local ecology and center on an endlessly creative universal force. My intentions are channeled into little acts as a means of driving my actions (without trying to bend reality or control anything I directly cannot), and I allow little happenings to be signs when I'm looking for them.

I've gone so far as to construct an altar over which I begin my day with words and motions and candles and incense and a single-card tarot pull.

It's been nice.

But my altar needed something seasonal and well-crafted to mark the passage of time and honor creativity in the form of traditional fiber art.

Enter: bunting.

I have a wealth of embroidery thread, almost all of it gifted by people I love. Simultaneously, I have a pathological need to feel like I'm constantly clearing out my fiber supply.

So, the construction of eight bunting sets (two solstices, two equinoxes, four Celtic cross-quarter days) consisting of 13 elements each (the number of full moons in a year) is, in fact, a stash-busting project.

I don't know what my supply will look like at the end. Even with a small hook, this project gobbles up tiny skeins quickly. This is fine. There's always more. (Acknowledging abundance has been another gift of turning spooky.)

I'm using the Lotus Mandala Pray Flags from the now-defunct Crochet with Raymond blog. (I miss reading that one lots.) Seven rounds of colors prescribed in Pinterest graphics produced by The Hour of Witchery for each sabbat. Our digital world is still vast and wonderful, even if the bots are rapidly destroying both it and the physical one.

Started with the Autumn Equinox, since it was the closest, even though it wasn't finished until this past weekend. Still counts! And goblincore-adjacent fall colors make me happy year-round! (We'll see what I think of the pastels of Imbolc and Ostara.)

I had originally planned to make solid backs for each granny stitch mandala (grandala, if you will), but realized how much extra work, though worth it, that would be. And I don't love the feeling of starched doilies. Instead, I blocked them like a toddler, getting them wet with water then patting them into circle-esque shapes on a towel on the kitchen floor.

My cat immediately sat on them, booty impeccably centered, as if it was her job. Sigh.

But I managed to liberate the flattened roundels, strung them together with chain stitches, and now have them suspended above that previously mentioned altar.

It's nice to have a grandiose project. I mentioned previously hating winter. This, a plan to start container gardening beginning in January by sewing herbs in doctored kitty litter jugs, a return to spinning and dyeing wool, jigsaw puzzles, my first-ever crocheted cardigan, watercolors, and whatever else I come up with are meant to carry me through the cold months with cozy excitement around staying busy and occupied. We'll see how it goes!

Another thought around the Autumn Equinox. Mhara Starling, whom I adore and sometimes like to imagine is my bestest Welsh friend in the non-creepiest way possible, and others have pointed out that the modern holiday termed Mabon was not the hugest of deals in the Celtic world. The name comes from a Welsh deity whose story has minimal parallels to the abduction of Persephone, but was decided to be close enough in the 1970s to mark the halfway point between solstices, appropriation and mispronunciation and all. Here's Mhara's TikTok video about it.

Anyway, it's fall, I'm crocheting a bunch of little garlands, and I'm letting myself love and do things that once felt forbidden. Life is short and everything runs in cycles and is interconnected and eternal.

Next up very soon: Samhain bunting.