Shedding, Stillness, and the Spirits of the Land

As the sun dips lower in the sky and morning frost begins to sparkle, we gather at the boundary between seasons — between summer’s warmth and winter’s quiet. This time isn't about ending but about transformation. Nature shows us the importance of releasing what no longer serves us. Trees drop their leaves in gold and rust, fields lie silent under mist, and animals prepare their shelters. Deer grow thicker coats, snakes shed their skin, and fallen leaves nourish the roots. We should also let go of old fears and anger that no longer hold meaning, making space for new growth. Winter calls for preparedness — not panic, but thoughtful action. Our ancestors stocked stores, repaired roofs, and gathered around fires.

Today, we can prepare by nurturing our inner fire, keeping warmth within our homes and hearts, and embracing simplicity, decluttering, and peace. The land spirits, the vætir, move quietly, settling into hills, trees, and waters. We thank them for the soil, air, and water that sustain us. May our fires burn respectfully, and our voices rise in gratitude. The lesson of this moment is simple: transformation begins with surrender. The leaf must fall. The seed must rest. Darkness must come so that life can renew. The rune Jera embodies this truth — the harvest and promise, the ending that leads to a new beginning. What we’ve planted during the bright months now bears fruit, and the wheel continues to turn.

So, embrace the shedding, silence, and quiet renewal that grows out of sight.

Hail to the landvætir who guard our steps.

Hail to the hearth that glows against the long night.

And hail to the deep wisdom of the turning year.