This week's word has been around since the eleventh century, making its way to us through the Middle English egge, Old English ecg, Old French aiglent and Old Germanic ecke, all meaning "corner". It is also related to the Latin acer meaning "sharp", and the Greek akmē meaning "point". At the root of it all is the Proto-Indo-European (PIE) form ak- meaning "sharp". Kindred words in the English language include acerbic, acid, acrid, acumen, acupuncture, acute, eager, ester, exacerbate, hammer and selvedge as well as eglantine (sweetbriar), an old world rose known for its thorns.
An edgy time is this, for the old Celtic year has passed away, and we stand on the threshold of a brand new year, in the north a chilling contraption of fallen leaves and freezing earth, short days, darkness, frost and wind. This year, the weather is unseasonably warm, and many of the village children did their trick or treating last night in short sleeves (or no sleeves at all), but we were not fooled. Colder times are not far off. The short days and long nights are here to remind us.
The eastern Ontario highlands seem empty at this time of the year and rather lonesome. Except for Canada geese and a few intrepid herons, migratory birds have departed for warmer climes, and the lake seems still and empty. Most of our wild forest kin are already hibernating or are thinking about doing it.
On early morning walks, the long shadows falling across our trail have edges as sharp as the finest examples of the blade smith's craft. The earth beneath our boots is firm, leaves are crunchy, and some mornings, the puddles along our way are rimed with ice. For all the emptiness, morning sunlight changes the landscape into something rich and elegant and inviting: milkweed sculpted into pleasing shapes, bare trees twinkling like stars, the margins of blackberry leaves rosy and sparkling with frost or wetness. The air is fragrant with cedar, spruce and pine.
These weeks always seem chthonic to me. That engaging word with its bewildering arrangement of vowels and consonants springs from the Greek khthonios, meaning "of the earth", and it is usually employed in describing subterranean matters and deities of the underworld. In using the adjective, we focus on what is deeper or within, rather than on what is apparent at first glance or resting on the surface. Implicit in the expression are notions of rest, sleep, fertility and rebirth - entelechy, mortality and abundance coexisting and enfolding each other in a deep embrace.
Beau and I will celebrate this hallowed day with long walks, leaf blowing and gardening, with cups of Darjeeling and spicy munchies. We will plant garlic this afternoon as we always do on the first day of November. The weather is warm, so we (or rather I) will be in short sleeves. Happy Samhain, happy November!
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