A Tale of Thanksgiving

Actually this is a tale of giving thanks, as opposed to the holiday of the same name. This story is about Samhain, about giving thanks for life and for the harvest, and about remembering those who have passed. I know it's a bit late to be sharing a Samhain story, but it will be even later by the time it is actually finished.

I will continue the story on my own. I trust you will let me know if you wish to read more. 'Tis a rough draft, so there may be some spelling errors that I have missed. If you read this and find any, let me know. I'm terrible at catching my own errors, especially after reading other people's writing all day!


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Samhain. The end of the harvest. Maya knows it is almost time. She has been preparing all day and is eagerly anticipating the ritual. It will give her a chance to recover from her labors. All day she has been tying bunches of rosemary, sage, and thyme into bundles. The herbs were grown in pots around the perimeter of the house and brought inside when the weather turned cold. The fragrant herbs hang from the rafters of the kitchen to try, their earth aroma filling the air and mixing in with the smoke from the fire.

The cauldron bubbles over the fire, adding more delicious smells to the atmosphere. The flickering light from the fire causes shadows to dance upon the wall. Maya knows that spirits are also beginning to dance around the room. They too are awaiting the ritual. She knows that her grandparents are somewhere nearby; she can feel their presence. They have been waiting all year for this invitation to supper, for a chance to be remembered again.

Taking a bone-handled knife, Maya gathers a few sprigs of rosemary and lays them before her on the wooden table. She pauses for a moment, knife on the table beside the herbs. She smiles. “Remembrance,” she whispers, then proceeds to finely chop the rosemary. She hums a little tune to herself as she chops, a tune that her grandmother used to sing to her. A tear, small and shiny as a crystal, rolls down Maya’s cheek and mixes in with the rosemary. It is a tear brought on by the happiness of the memory.

Maya’s mother soon returns with her two sisters and their husbands. They have been picking apples at a local orchard and gathering a few acorn squash. Maya’s aunt Dilara sweeps into the kitchen, cheeks rosy from the cold autumn afternoon, and greets Maya with a hug and kiss. Wordlessly she places a small sack into Maya’s hands. She peers inside and gasps with delight at what she sees: chestnuts! She flings her arms around Auntie Dilara and thanks her for the treat. “They will be perfect with the squash, Auntie!” she exclaims. “Grandpa’s favorite dish.”

“Mine too!” Dilara winks at her niece. She crosses the room, pulls an apron off the peg, ties it around her waist and begins preparing the chestnuts.

“It smells wonderful in here,” Dilara’s husband remarks. “Kudos to you, Maya. Most people don’t know how to put a big fireplace like that to good use!”

“My little Maya is a true kitchen witch,” Maya’s mother said, affectionately squeezing her daughter’s shoulders. “She knows how to keep a coven happy.”

A little embarrassed by the praise, Maya ducks her head and resumes work. The rosemary will she minced earlier will go into biscuits to be served with the bubbling stew. She has prepared a special feast with magical ingredients to mark the evening’s ritual.

The coven, comprised mostly of family and friends of the family, plan to hold a Dumb Supper in order to honor their beloved dead. In the living room an altar has been decorated with pictures of the deceased, along with flowers, candles, and special mementos. Food will also be offered to them during the meal, which will be eaten in silence.

The table for the Dumb Supper is draped in a black cloth. Special black dishes, only used once a year, have already been set upon the table. Everything is black, including the clothing to be worn.

Maya had been working all day to prepare the stew made from pork and apples. This represents prosperity as well as love. It According to her mother, her great-aunt made the same dish every year, to bring luck for the coming year. The rosemary in the bread symbolized remembrance, which was the main purpose of the evening’s event. She would also prepare acorn squash stuffed with grains, vegetables, and chestnuts, to represent the final harvest of the year.

Dilara places the chestnuts in an old cast iron roaster and places them in the embers. Soon the smell of roasting chestnuts adds its special memory-evoking aroma to the air. Maya pauses during the rolling of the biscuit dough to breathe in the smell. She recalls earlier autumn festivities and can almost feel the chill in the air as she remembers her father carrying her through the pumpkin patch in search of the perfect pumpkin to carve. She can smell the fallen leaves mixed in with the smell of chestnuts being roasted in a small pit, along with freshly pressed, spiced apple cider. She takes a deep breath and sighs.

Dilara, noticing her niece’s sighs, looks at her and smiles. She knows the power of smells and how they can bring back memories of past events and remind people of loved ones. Taking the chestnuts out of the fire she brings them back to the table to cool. As they cool she takes a biscuit cutter and begins to help Maya cut the biscuits. As she begins to cut, she leads Maya and the other women in the kitchen in a chant:

Hoof and Horn, Hoof and Horn,
All that dies shall be reborn,
Corn and Grain, Corn and Grain,
All that falls shall rise again!

The women start softly, then increase in volume and tempo until Maya’s mother and aunt Maggie are happily twirling about the large kitchen, emphasizing the words of the song with hand gestures and elaborate movements that make everyone laugh. Their commotion draws the uncles into the kitchen and they join, stomping their feet and clapping their hands. This is what Sabbats were about in Maya’s family – everyone together, enjoying life and celebrating the wheel of the year. Maya, beaming, adds another happy autumn memory to her list. She has much to be thankful for.