The woodstove at my house sits on a thick slab of bluestone that comes from the land that the house was built on in 1870. This road is a quarry road; there is not much dirt to dig into. The bedrock is close to the surface and it is deep, solidly deep. The house was one of the first three houses built on this road and three houses are called ‘stonecutters houses’ as they were built by the families that worked in the quarry. It is a small home, with short little ceilings that I can reach when I am stretching my arms above my head in the morning. There is bluestone all around; toppling stone walls, a stoney front stoop, a bluestone patio out back. This is the stone that anchors this place.

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And inside my house, the bluestone holds the woodstove. I recently lit the stove for the first time this season, dusting off the stone slab, wiping away fallen dahlia petals that lingered from when the stove functioned as a flower-altar all summer. I vacuumed out all the old ash from the previous winter, starting fresh. I built the first fire out of dried plants from my garden this year: signaling that my devotion was shifting from the garden to the hearth of the home. The fire of summer has been released and now we cultivate the flame from inside.

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I tend to the first fire late into the night. Fir, pine, maple, cherry, birch: the little stove feeds on the forest. I also offer the fire milk, honey and cider. I burn other herbs. I send up blessings to the spirits of my hearth and home, tending all realms. There are songs that are offered: songs of return, songs for the stone, apple songs, soup songs, song of homecoming, songs that call in the season. The bluestone slab begins to take on warmth from the fire and it spreads through the house as if it were on a low and slow simmer.

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Eventually I head to bed. When I wake in the morning, I light the candles in the house before dawn with the last ember of the night’s fire, and this light is where I write to you from now, with my tea. Hearth season is here and I am warming up to the rhythm of it. These are some of my hearth-season rituals: the stacking of the wood, sweeping the floor each morning to clear the ash, reading poems to the morning fire to start the day.

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This autumn and winter I am offering my Tending The Hearth class again. It is a class that brings winter folk traditions to the heart of the home. This will be the third year that it is offered, and I’ve invited some really wonderful guest teachers into the mix to expand the course and bring in more magic. What once was a five-week class will now be eight weeks. We start at the beginning of December and go 'til the end of February, meeting every other week. Some things that will be explored are: winter folktales & poems, oracular work & fire scrying, folklore of the bedroom, winter freak spirits, the underworld pantry, cauldron-myths and more. Course info is below. I hope you can join me in honoring this season, tending our fire and sinking into the magic of this time of year.

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