Reflections from a Night with Lord Huron
The changing season has me feeling some type of way deep in my cells. It's not just the later sunrises or the brisk snap in the air at night. It's the barometric shift. The quiet, crackling goodbye of summer. Here in this near-desert climate of the Inland Northwest, even the small sips of humidity vanish. Joints stiffen. Immune systems flex. There’s a gentle mourning for the waning power of our favorite star.
Though we don’t have many deciduous trees here, the few we do have are putting on their golden show. Everything smells different. Noses run, cheeks flush, breath clouds in the cold. Autumn isn't just here... it’s taking root.
Last night, Lord Huron came to town, and we stood under an open sky, on a grassy hill, in near-freezing temps, wind and rain just to see them perform. I was shaking from the cold, but I wouldn’t have traded those two hours for anything. Not warmth. Not comfort. Not even a fire.
Because their music? It’s a spell.
Haunting and raw, it lifted me out of my body, out of my town, and dropped me into something else entirely; a shared, collective dreamscape. The elaborate sets, the mythic tones, the dramatic storytelling... every part of it was theatre. Living memory.
I’ve written to their music many times. There’s one scene in a manuscript of mine I built around a single song of theirs. I played it on loop for 24 hours straight, scripting my characters' arc around every note. And when they played it live last night... and I was there again. The whole scene flooded back. I saw it, felt it, remembered it like a former life. I teared up like someone remembering a lost love.
It wasn’t just music last night. It was a portal. And I stepped through it.
They say the veil thins as Samhain draws near—that the line between this world and the unseen grows fine enough to pass through. I’ve never doubted it. I’ve parted it, forced it aside. And when the veil lifts, I don’t just feel the season change, I become it.
The water in my body is adjusting. The mourning for the sun is peaking. And with that, the magic returns. Quiet acts of wonder stir in the corners of my world. And even though the warmth of my ruling star is fading, I have fire. I have music. I have words. I can pierce the veil whenever I wish. And if you're ready to pierce it too, Bloomspun offers ritual talismans to help you step boldly into the dark half of the year.
With the Harvest Moon behind me and the New Moon fast approaching, I’m taking stock of what I’ve gathered. The memories. The beauty. The love. My own harvest.
And I wonder, beloved—
What have you gathered?
What are you carrying with you into the dark season ahead?
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