The Last Harvest
Honour & Release
There is a pause in the wheel. Many cultures can relate this time of year to a closer connection to the spirit world and our beloved ancestors. Our different cultures are woven with stories, from the Christian traditions and honouring of All Hallows Eve and saints day, to Mexico, the combination of Aztec and Catholicism with the celebration of Día de Los Muertos (the Day of the Dead).
Greek Mythology tells the stories of Persephone entering the shadow world to look after the lost souls for half of the year, and in the older Celtic & Gaelic traditions, this part of the year was celebrated as Samhain or the last harvest. When settlers from Ireland and Europe moved to the Americas, their folk customs merged into what we recognise today as Halloween.
When the Season Lingers
The final harvest and the ushering in of winter are here. In this liminal time of year, the weather may be unsettled, maybe a crispness of change to drier air, sharper mornings as the sun sits lower.
A quieter, more solemn threshold. A turning inward. The slow descent toward winter’s stillness. This Season becomes a curious in-between, a place where rhythm may slip, just as we think we have found it. The old English proverb rings true in both hemispheres.
'Ne’er cast a clout till May be out.'
Not as instruction, but as a reminder. This is not a season that can be rushed; in the North, as they celebrate the rites of spring, in the South, we are stepping into a void.
Cyclical Living Beyond the Calendar
This lingering quality calls us back to something deeper. Cyclical living is not about dates marked neatly on a calendar. It is about noticing. feeling, listening and adapting.
Blue skies followed by thunderclouds. working beneath shifting light. Summer dresses paired with woollen socks. Guavas finished, oranges not yet ready. Nature speaks in nuance. Our inner seasons do the same. They do not follow instructions to be neatly prescribed; it is messy, raw and real. The more we listen, the clearer the conversation becomes.
Gathering What Remains
The Wheel of the Year turns gently. Not as an on–off switch, but as a slow transition. As we end autumn and enter winter, I think of the Last Harvest not as a spectacle, a fixed even but as a window for reverence. This is a time to honour what has passed, what is ending, and what must be laid gently to rest. It is steeped in gratitude, not excess.
Honouring Place and Ancestral Rhythm
We do not need to mimic Northern traditions to honour this time. Instead, we are invited to weave meaning that aligns with the land beneath our feet, to listen to local rhythms and honour ancestral wisdom that understands winter, rest, and death as necessities. Here in Southern Africa, in most places, winter is not icy or severe, yet it still asks for a shift; physically, emotionally, and spiritually.
“I honour my ancestors, for their path is my guide and their wisdom lives within me.”
Honouring our ancestors and loved ones who have passed creates space to celebrate, mourn, and remember with joy. This is a theme that runs through many cultures at this time of year (October/November in the North, April/May in the South). Just as we honour the end of the year, we can celebrate all that has passed and allow those memories to hold us until spring.
Choosing the Underworld
As the Last Harvest approaches, but unlike Persephone’s return to the underworld, winter is welcomed. This descent into winter is a willingness to rest, to reflect, to allow quiet to deepen. To trust that nothing is wasted in the dark. Winter is not emptiness. It is incubation.
This Season asks:
What do I need to soften into rest?
Where can I slow down without guilt?
What nourishment supports me now?
Listening to the Body
The body knows when the season turns. Cravings shift. Energy slows. The desire for warmth, solitude, and grounding grows stronger. In our garden, the signs are subtle but telling. Fruits are ripe and falling in abundance. Seasonal fruit and vegetables drop in shops, signalling the arrival of soup season, of roasts and warm meals that draw us down into our bodies and the earth. We say goodbye to summer fruits and salads, and I welcome root vegetables and deeper nourishment.
“I honour the passing year, and all that is,
I release what no longer serves me.
