Lughnasadh Reflections: Gathering What’s Ripe, Letting Go of What’s Not

“Sunlight through oak leaves—golden light filtering soft wisdom through green shade.”

As the wheel turns toward the golden hush of late summer, I feel the ache and beauty of Lughnasadh deep in my bones. This is the first harvest — the time when we gather what has grown, offer thanks, and begin to prepare for the season of release.

It’s never been just about the grain or the garden for me. It’s about the soul’s harvest. And for those of us who have walked through deep loss, this season brings with it a quiet kind of reckoning: What have I lost? What have I gained in the wake of that loss? What still lingers in my hands — and what am I finally ready to lay down?

Years ago, I lost my husband and daughter in a sudden car accident. Every seasonal turning since then has touched that wound in a different way. But Lughnasadh… it reminds me that even in sorrow, we still grow. That healing, like wheat, comes in quiet stages — and that grief can ripen us in ways we never expected.

This year, as I stand among the things I’ve planted — in my life, in my work, in my heart — I am learning to gather what is true and let go of what no longer serves. I’m harvesting courage. I’m releasing perfection. I’m learning that the pain I carry is not a weight, but a thread. And that thread is now woven into everything I create — from herbal remedies to grief offerings to the stories I share with you.

Here’s what I know now: There is grace in grief. There is healing in harvest. And there is power in pausing to honor both.

If you’re reading this and feeling the stirrings of your own harvest season, I offer you this:

Lughnasadh Soul Practice

✨ Light a candle and take a deep breath.

🌾 Ask yourself: What have I tended this year that is ready to be gathered?

🍂 What weight am I ready to lay down, like a sheaf left in the field?

📝 Write these down. Thank each one. And trust the cycle.

May this season remind you that even the quietest growth is sacred.And may you gather your harvest with both hands — tenderly, bravely, and full of grace.

With golden light and leaf-whispers,

Solena ✨🌾