By Beth Schreibman Gehring
“The scent of rosemary, the smoke of sage, the whisper of bay — the old language of the earth still speaks if we pause long enough to listen.”
— Beth Schreibman Gehring, from Forage & Gather
Before Halloween, there was Samhain, the ancient Celtic turning of the year when the harvest ended and winter began to breathe at the edges of the fields. It was the time when fires were lit high on the hills to call the sun back, when families gathered to share what they’d grown, and to honor what they’d lost. They believed that on this night, the veil between worlds grew thin so that those who came before might wander close for just a moment, drawn by the scent of wood smoke and the warmth of the hearth.
The herbs of this season are the same ones that have long carried us through the threshold times, the in-between spaces when the light fades and the earth exhales. I think of them as old friends who know how to steady us when the days grow short.
The summer solstice is a time when the natural world is ablaze with life, when the energies of light and warmth are at their peak. This celestial dance of light and shadow held profound significance for our ancestors. It was a time of celebration and thanks for the coming harvests, and a time to relax for a bit and play. Still today, some cultures celebrate by kindling fires, symbolizing the transformative power of the sun, and many communities gather to dance, sing, and rejoice in the abundance of the season. 
Paths I Walk 
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