The Celtic year-wheel/fruit bowl says it’s time to go camping.  We’d better do what it says boys and girls!  Get in the car.  Don’t forget the dog.

For those of you who are not nuts (“Hiya!  Welcome.  Hope it’s not too kooky here.”) Mabon is the name of a harvest God from Welsh mythology.  And it’s a name for the Autumnal Equinox, aka Alban Elfed.  I’m a bit Equinox obsessed.  I guess lots of people are.  Equinoxes are all about balance.  Balance matters.  Without balance in the small sense, I fall down a lot more than I already do.  Without balance in the truly cosmic sense, a huge part of Earth would be amazingly freaking hot, and the other part would be c-c-c-cuh-hold.  So we Equinox fans, since pretty much the time when we humans developed calendars, have made a habit of saying a bit hearty “Woah, thanks!” to the Sun and the Earth and the Moon for collectively keeping the orbits the way they are and not killing all of us.  Some of our ancestors were so happy about Equinoxes they built these.  That’s a big old “Yay universe!  Woot!” if ever I saw one.

Anyway, every year I use the Equinox as an excuse to drag some of my pals out to the woods to sing, maybe toss some atlatls around, eat some lovely food, play with our dogs, spin some linen using our incongruous linen-spinning bowls courtesy of Virginia:

(Fill bowl half-way with water, put bast on the big side, run a leader under to the small side, wet-spin lovely linen, jump up and down with glee), watch some of the boys and girls hit each other with sticks (in the nicest way, of course), reminisce about Celtic summer camp.  You know–revel in community and celebrate the beginning of autumn.  This is the weekend.  Celt Wars Nine-ish (Swinish!) is upon us.  I heart us.

This is the first time I’ve been really cheery since the water turned mean on the Gulf Coast. I feel like I’ve exercised my civic duty by telling the folks who represent me what to do about a few things through some nice little letters.  And I feel like I’ve exercised my humanitarian duty by donating to the folks who can help folks in need.  And by complaining again to the Red Cross that it’s downright silly to refuse my blood because I am quite sure I don’t have Mad Cow Disease or any of its forms even though I lived in the UK for a while back when some folks still thought it was a good idea to feed cows, um, cows.

So, in the spirit of giving and balance, I’m giving the following through Give a Little to another person who donated money to help the hurricane victims:

That’s three 300-yard skeins of lace-weight silk and some bone and sterling stitch markers I made.  I have no idea who will get them, but I really hope they’re a hit, as-yet-unnamed mystery recipient.  And if you are so in love with the silk that you must have more, well, I’m a softie and can be convinced to sacrifice more from my stash if you make a good “I’m making my Gramma a lace shawl” kind of argument.

Also in the interest of balance, I’m going to back-fill the last few entries with some photos.  I got camera-lazy–I should say lazier.

Ooh, and does anyone know what’s on our little oak’s leaves?  Is it a form of oak gall?  I’m worried.  It’s a young pin-oak tree, and I really love it.  I know oak gall supposedly only causes cosmetic damage, but if it’s something else I want to protect the tree as best I can.

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