The Spell of Early September

Dear Ones,

Early September carries its own spell—quiet yet undeniable.

The air feels different now, thinner at the edges, touched with a coolness that whispers of what is coming. The fields wilted heavily with drought, the nights stretch longer, and in the distance, I can almost hear the ancient drum of the ancestors, waiting for their moment when the veil its thinnest and they come out for haunts and play.

This is the season of nostalgia, though not for anything I can fully name. It is a yearning braided with memory, a tenderness for what has passed and an ache for what has not yet arrived. I feel it most in the way my spirit leans toward Samhain; better known as Halloween, toward the glow of pumpkins and the shimmer of lantern-light, toward the deepening shadows that signal the veil beginning to soften.

Each year at this time, I feel a stirring to begin again—not in the way of resolutions or obligations, but in the way of devotion. The Great Mother herself is my teacher, the Earth: the animals gathering what they will need, the plants bowing into seed, the trees practicing release. They remind me that this season is a classroom of its own, where the lessons are written not in ink but in wind, soil, and flame.

Perhaps you feel it too, that inward call to study, to gather, to apprentice yourself once more to the mysteries that wait in the turning. Your studies may live in books, or in the soil, or in the silence of your breath. They may take the form of art, or prayer, or tracing the lines of your ancestry until they glow.

However they appear, the invitation is the same: to deepen, to listen, to prepare.

Early September is not simply a page on the calendar—it is a threshold. And thresholds ask us questions. What will you carry forward from the bright season now closing? What will you release to the wind with the first falling leaves? What threads of curiosity or devotion are asking to be picked up again, so they might be carried through the darker months ahead?

I stand here with soil stained clothes, heart already leaning toward candlelight, grateful for the spell this season casts. For it reminds me that

even as the light fades, the mystery grows brighter.

Pictured: Flower walking into the forest. Photograph by: Monika Dawn

✨ A Reflection for You ✨

Light a candle, open your journal, and let the season speak. Ask yourself:

• What do I feel myself yearning toward as September begins?

• What am I being asked to release with grace?

• What do I long to study, gather, or deepen into in the months ahead?

  
  

Write freely, without judgment, and notice what wisdom rises from your own heart.

And if journaling with the seasons calls to you,

I’ll be sharing a free Journaling for the Seasons guidebook—an offering to help you attune your writing practice to the wheel of the year. Check in on the Free Offerings page soon.

With reverence for what is passing, and wonder for what is coming,

🌒 Flower