“Fallen leaves lying on grass in November sun bring more happiness than daffodils,” according to Cyril Connolly. “Spring is a call to action, hence to disillusion, therefore is April called the cruellest month. Autumn is the mind’s true spring.”
Whereas 1st January as new year is just a mathematical accident arising from the diktat of the Julian calendar. Scotland held out till 1600, and Britain finally adopted the Gregorian calendar in 1752. The Gregorian version was introduced to put right various complications in the Julian attempt.
So we are saddled with our new year beginning in January not through the movement of the spheres, the turning of nature or even – if that is your wont – because it was supposed incorrectly to be God’s birthday. It was because some ancient sage couldn’t get his sums right.
The quick of the English year
But autumn… Who could not feel the difference, the changing of the seasons? September and October are our months of mists and mellow fruitfulness. For many, this is the season of restless thoughts, of inspiration and new ideas. Geoffrey Smith calls it “the quick of the English year”, when there are new laws, new books, new football seasons and new terms.
Kicking through the leaves is more than a ritual, it is a necessary part of autumn’s mental stimulation. It is a time of preparation, reviewing, planning. Hemmed in by the dark and cold, we can (as did the ancients) devote our time to telling tales around the fire and eating and drinking too much. So the death of the old year brings the burgeoning of life, but keeping snug. And safe. Because this is a time to be indoors, where there is light and warmth. A time to hide away from the dark, and whatever lurks there.
Hallowe’en as a natural end, and a beginning
Many civilisations saw this as the natural end and beginning, the real new year. And the very point at which one year became another was the night of Hallowe’en, so that one night between the fading light and the growing dark was important, potentially terrifying because the membrane between life and death was gossamer thin and could be broken.
This was the night which separated the seasons. The Celts called it Samhain (pronounced Sow-in), and this was their new year. The expected happenings on that night were common among primitive societies, and their traditions linger on into what we call Hallowe’en. It has nothing to do with pumpkins, and witches only got a look-in only because they had the knowledge of how to deal with the phenomena abroad on that night.
Avoid crossroads, stiles and gibbets
This was when the gates of Hell lay open and the samhanach – the demons – seethed abroad looking for lost souls to drag down to their doom. Nobody would be abroad on that night if they could help it, and nowhere near a crossroads, a stile or a gibbet. Because there lurked the samhanach.
The Wild Hunt were also abroad, racing across the turbulent heavens with their pack of Gabriel’s Hounds after the same lost souls. They might be encountered at any time during November, and the only defence was to light “need fire” (by rubbing sticks together) and shelter under a shield made of the seven magic woods. The sticks may be damp, and it isn’t clear whether we were expected to make our own shields or might buy them from a convenient hardware store. But then there is no evidence of souls being lost for want of them either.
The festival of the cult of the dead
This was the festival of the cult of the dead. It was a time to honour the dead, and to fear them. During November they would rise from their graves and look to warm their poor, cold bodies by the fires of the living. Wise householders would try to placate them… before bed, set out a loaf of bread and a jug of milk on the kitchen table, bank up the fire and leave the door on the latch. Then retire to bed, turn your eyes to the wall and ignore whatever sounds you might hear from below.
But after due obeisance and due supplication, the dead returned to the grave, leaving the world to the living. So in the old world, the year began with our preparation for darkness, but it also recognised that this was a time of stirring, of ideas and impatience for new life.
Hope, renewal and joy
The days began growing longer, bringing light and the glimmer of hope. The winter solstice (later Christmas) represented that first hope, and the coming triumph of light over darkness. Hence the joy and celebrations. So the rest of the darkness that followed was a time of patience, till at the beginning of February came Imbolc or Candlemas, the first day of spring.
Soon came the joys of nature’s renewal, the pleasures of summer and then to end the year, the gradual ripening of the days, the big slow skies, the rich colours as the world slowly and comfortably fell asleep. A proper way to end the year, and a much more natural and relaxing way than to sit about at a party for hours, getting bored and pretending it’s all fun, before the counterfeit joy of a jig at midnight, singing a song that nobody understands, before the long and dyspeptic drive home.
The human spirit deserves better
So there was a time when our year began with darkness, grew into light and joy, matured into rich pleasures and fell asleep. Instead, we imposed upon it a cycle of darkness, then light and joy… then a descent into further darkness. Beginning in darkness and returning to darkness. The human spirit surely deserves better.
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