As a couple, we find a lot of things to celebrate. What would it be? Then we realized it was Mabon, the autumn equinox. That would be the day's celebration.
For me, the equinoxes are a marker. Mabon marks the end of summer, the time when the day and night are the same length.
It is harvest time. Already men and women have baskets on their backs that will be filled with grapes that will go to the local wine co-op. And orange nets are under the olive trees ready to catch the fruit when the tree is shaken.
Snow is on Canigou.
If we were in Geneva, the leaves would be turning mostly yellow, with a free red ones. More wine harvesting. The sunflowers would have disappeared. Corn and hay are stored in barns for the winter. A little into the countryside, train cars would be filled with sugar beets.
Cows would be brought down from passage. Flowers would be woven in their horns.
The fire crackled. At times the wood looked like a gray mountain side. At other times the coals glowed red. One moment, it reminded me of looking down on Chicago on a red eye flight from San Francisco to Boston. There were the same tiny lights in the night as were on the log. The embers changed into red outlined squares.
We have weeks of days growing shorter ahead of us. It means getting into PJs earlier, curling up with a book, drinking hot chocolate and eating fondues and raclettes. It is the wind kissing my cheeks, of greater energy. At the beach is means bigger waves and walking in the sand without wall to wall towels and tourists. Instead there might be a single person strolling with his dog that will greet our dog.
We raised our glasses. "To Mabon."
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