09/20/2026
Mabon is almost here, and I'm gonna say the quiet part out loud: nobody is balanced.
They'll tell you the equinox is about "perfect balance." Equal light, equal dark, everybody breathe. Cute. But that balance lasts one afternoon. A knife's edge. By sundown the scale tips, and the dark keeps every inch it wins until spring.
The old folks knew. They weren't sitting in a circle "honoring the harvest energy." They were out in the field with a sickle, racing the weather, arguing over who had to cut the last sheaf (because whoever cut it carried the spirit of the grain, and nobody wanted that job). Nobody had a gratitude list. They had a count of who was gonna eat.
So here's your Mabon, the old way:
- Bake bread and break it with your hands. No knife tonight.
- Leave an apple at the foot of a tree for whoever is hungry that you can't see.
- Take real stock. Not what you planned to grow... What actually came up?
- Then ask what needs cutting down, because not everything gets to stay in the field.
And leave the blackberries alone from here on out. The old ones said the Devil spits on them after Michaelmas. (Also they're usually moldy by then. Folk wisdom is sometimes just good food safety + a pointed hat.)
Call it Mabon, call it Harvest Home, call it whatever you want. The sun... ah, the sun is leaving anyway, and it's asking what you're gonna do with the dark.
Blessed equinox, my darlings. Eat well. Cut clean. 🍂
~ Baba
