Lammas (Dedicant Path Essay)

NB - this post is a little late. I decided to put the descriptions up on this blog only after Lammas had already passed.

Lammas is the end of summer in Maine. The wheel is turning toward fall. The cross-quarter days are often the days that I can feel the balance shift, and feel the world roll under my feet. The light begins to turn gold, the queen anne’s lace is everywhere. The days are hot, but the nights take on an autumnal chill, and the world starts to smell like autumn.

Traditionally Lammas (often Lunasa or Lughnassasdh) is the first harvest, the grain harvest. It’s a time of hard work, long days, warm sun, and giving thanks. In some traditions, the grain harvest is when the corn god is cut down to feed the people. In Irish myth, it was the festival of Tailltiu, the foster-mother of Lugh, who cleared the land for crops and died from the effort. My hearth is primarily Gaulish (though I honor a few gods from other Celtic pantheons) and in Roman Gaul August 1st was the Feast of the Three Gauls, in honor of the three Gaulish Roman provinces. This seems to have been a feast of Lugus and Augustus Caesar. It's likely that the Romans added the celebration of the Emperor to an existing Celtic festival in honor of Lugus on that date.

Photo by Pawel Kadysz via Stocksnap.io

 In my home, the week or so leading up to Lammas is an introspective time. It’s a time to take stock of the progress of the year and give thanks for the harvest reaped (this year I am thankful for my new, lower stress job, and that my medical issues allowed me to recognize the chaos my life was becoming in time to fix it). I eat the produce from the garden and thank the spirits of the land. Tomatoes and apples are ripe. The first haying is happening, and the smell of grass drying in the heat is everywhere. We celebrate Lammas night with friends, fire, feasting and beer because Lammas is a last orgy of brightness before the long night of winter.