At Michelmas lightly, new farmer comes in
September 29: Michaelmas (Reflections on equinox lives | Printable resource)
At Michelmas lightly, new farmer comes in,
New husbandry forceth him, new to begin;
Old farmer, still taking, the time to him given,
Makes August to last, untill Michelmas even.Thomas Tusser, Five Hundred Points of Good Husbandrie, 16th c.
Welcome, friends. I’m Kristin: a Pacific Northwest artist, mom, & farmer offering support for seasonal, local, liturgical living. Together, we’ll explore the agrarian heritage of the Church calendar and ideas of sacred time & sacred place.
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Printable Resources
Keeping a liturgical calendar binder helps me to distill all of the inspiration I find, so I can easily look to the elements that have been most inspiring and nurturing for our family & community.
For Michaelmas, I’m offering up an updated resource to help you craft your own liturgical year binder - a pretty cover page with watercolor art, followed by poetry, musings, history, spaces to record your own thoughts & respond to prompts…all illuminated by new ink drawings (I’m learning how to use a dip pen, friends!)
My paid subscribers can find this (as well as lots of other printables - including a Michaelmas paper scene!) in the Scriptorium:
Though not commemorated as widely now, Michaelmas was once celebrated as a major bookmark in the year: a crucial fulcrum when the harvest season tipped toward its denouement; partnerships were renewed, ended, or begun; and preparation for the colder, wintry months came into focus as the daylight slowly waned & temperatures fell, bit by bit.
Trailing just days after the autumnal equinox, Michaelmas marked a huge shift in agricultural rhythm and was yet another instantiation of a ‘new year’:
“September is properly the month when the crops are all cleared from the land, and the annual labours of agriculture begin their round. On this account, it is justly put first in the calendar of farming. Some, indeed, take their bargains from Lady-day; but this is by no means so convenient as Michaelmas.”
Commentary by William Mavor on the Book of Husbandrie, 1812
In our modern age, many of us (if we’re lucky) are acclimated to availability & abundance; the fall equinox cues our cozy fall traditions.
For historical communities, though, this equinox - when day & night are at equal length, with dark hours now beginning to outweigh daylight - was a marker of the uncertainties that lay ahead in the winter months.
And at this precarious balance of day & night, the Church offers us none other than the warrior archangel - guardian, protector - St. Michael, and asks us to enter into the darker half of the year with emboldened festivities, to continue making plans in faith despite all the uncertainty ahead.
And who better to accompany us into the dark months than Michael and his angelic cohort?
So, the equinox comes, we see daylight hours slipping away - and Michaelmas asks us to harvest our apples and brew them into cider to share with our community. To do what we can to ensure good things in the coming year, knowing full well that most pieces of that puzzle are out of our control; farming is an act of hope, after all…as are our lives.
An old Suffolk proverb tells us that,
“At Michaelmas-time or a little before,
Half an apple goes to the core;
At Christmas-time, or a little after,
A crab in the hedge, and thanks to the grafter.”
In other words, apples are so prolific at Michaelmas that only half the apple is often enjoyed - the supply seems endless. We know, of course, that it’s not; that this time is fleeting. Facing the dark winter months, we’ll gather apples once the dew dries, store them away how we can, and make plans that we know are only shots in the dark.
Michaelmas is a holiday of brave bittersweetness. Something about embracing the equinoctial spirit of the day - of continuing to live in a posture of hope, no matter the circumstances or uncertainties - feels like a fitting way to enter the winter months, St. Michael right beside us. We’re always at intersections of day & night.
None of us has an idyllic existence, and the rain falls willy-nilly, after all. With Michaelmas approaching, I picked extra apples from our espalier orchard - just days after the equinox, it was beautiful, crisp, & sunny. It looks like a fairy-tale, I know; and I’m eternally grateful for the life we have.
But in all honesty? My heart was also heavy, fearful, anxious…and paradoxically joyful, hopeful, buoyant. Running through my head: “My mom’s birthday is approaching, and boy do I miss her”, as well as a million other worries both large and small. Yet reaching for clusters of bright apples dappled in sunshine made my heart ache with gladness.
Reminders of St. Michael, his sword & shield in protection of us all, are gifted to us at an astronomical & agrarian intersection - one that reminds us of the intersection of suffering & joy that we all behold. The autumn equinox and the following descent into winter are mirrors for our own journeys, and the Church’s calendar underscores our bittersweetness in the sun & the moon, in stories of angelic beings, at God’s behest, accompanying us amidst everything.
It’s taken me a lot of years to really embrace the paradoxical dynamic of Michaelmas and the equinox…to court joy while treading the waters of suffering, anxiety, & PTSD in the midst of so much beauty and blessing.
Sometimes, every apple we pick is an act of rebellious hope. I wonder if our ancestors felt this keenly, too? The world wants to bend us toward its varied prosperity gospels (which are not confined to religion, but pervade secular culture as well) - that we can somehow stay suspended in sweetness with no taste of bitter. But that’s just simply not life.
And so, I forge on with these old Michaelmas traditions, because they train my heart along a trellis of truth, something I can lean on in faith whether I can conjure the emotions or not:
"All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well."
Julian of Norwich, 15th c.
A warrior angel is sent as our advocate, after all - an emboldening thought!
Benediction
Be the sacred Three of Glory
Aye at peace with me,
With my horses, with my cattle,
With my woolly sheep in flocks.
With the crops growing in the field
Or ripening in the sheaf,
On the machair, on the moor,
In cole, in heap, or stack.
Every thing on high or low,
Every furnishing and flock,
Belong to the holy Triune of glory,
And to Michael the victorious.“Aimsire” (“Seasons”) from the Carmina Gadelica, Translated by Alexander Carmichael
Wishing you & yours a merry Michaelmas, dear friends. I pray that you’re able to enter into the darker months - whether literally or metaphorically - with the bravery we imperfectly practice in our hope-filled Michaelmas celebrations.
Pax vobis,
Kristin
P.S. Stay tuned for some exciting news about our book club!
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For more reflections and perspectives on the liturgical year, please visit Signs + Seasons: a liturgical living guild!
Michaelmas is one of my favorites. Loved your thoughts on the day's paradoxes. We celebrated a bit early this year with all kinds of dragon stories and dragon bread. Sadly the wild (abandoned?) blackberry bush in our backyard was picked clean almost a month ago. My hopes of a berry dessert were dashed, but also quite happy the birds enjoyed a tasty feast.
My Heavenly Patron is the Holy Archangel Michael, and while in my Orthodox tradition, his Feast isn't until November, I love Michaelmas traditions.