The first day of the next season on the calendar, its tendrils wrapping around us like creeping vines long before now. The sky keeping its own time, the soul self biding its allocation and weighing it against glitchy unruly transformation.

Before mankind invented time as we know it in order to correct the pesky lag between equinoxes and the maths that couldn't keep up, there was the wheel of the year. This is nature's time determined by the uncalculated movements of our luminaries, the sun and his lover the moon.
Today is the cross quarter, the middle point between solstice and equinox. This is marked by the sun sitting at 15 degrees of Aquaria, an esbat often observed on the first of the month because it's more convenient and easier to remember.

The Aries ingress delivers equinox as the wheel of the year creaks to its next notch. The time of exact balance between day and night, light and dark where the door swings open to the next season of our lives. The veil thins as we cross the threshold of this liminal space where the ancestors gather.

Whilst the sabbats that mark the notches on the wheel of the year stand sentinel over eons, they become our personal markers for change. We arrive to each in a different form and at a different place in our life.