If anyone had asked me in the past if I liked autumn, I’d probably have said yes. And I do love the colours—the deep browns and fiery oranges are beautiful. Plus, Halloween is the one time of year when everyone else decorates their houses with the sort of stuff we keep on display year-round. What’s not to like?
Then again, autumn usually brings the damp and the drizzle. It’s getting darker as the nights draw in, and of course, it's getting colder.
Autumn is really about preparing for the long winter ahead. It’s an important, meaningful time—as the veil between realms grows thinner, I find myself drawn to working with Hel and Arawn. It isn’t just a time for cheap thrills or dressing up as vampires and ghosts (though I do enjoy the spectacle). It’s a sacred opportunity to honour our ancestors: to speak their names, tell their stories, and let them live on through us.
But important doesn't always mean pleasant.
Especially as I’ve gotten older, I struggle with this time of year. I miss the light. I much prefer the rebirth of spring and feel a far closer connection to Cernunnos, finding him to be a much brighter, cheerful presence to walk alongside.
And don't get me started on the modern obsession with pumpkins! The oversized orange squash is a relatively recent transatlantic import to our shores. Most of the commercialised traditions we observe today are fairly fresh arrivals from across the pond. When I was a kid, we didn't have easy-to-carve pumpkins—we carved our Jack-o'-lanterns out of turnips, risking a broken spoon and a bruised thumb in the process!
On a final, unrelated note, I can't let the 60th anniversary of the Aberfan disaster pass without mentioning it. For those who might not be aware, back in October 1966, a waterlogged colliery spoil tip collapsed and slid down into the Welsh village of Aberfan, engulfing Pantglas Junior School. It claimed 144 lives, including 116 children. It’s a grief the community still carries to this day. The thought of it always fills me with immense sadness—not just because of my love for Wales, but simply because it remains one of the most heartbreaking tragedies imaginable.
The spirit of the Urban Viking—and the occasional absurdity of navigating the modern world—lives on in my webcomic, Northman. 
You can read the latest chapter here:
No comments:
Post a Comment
𝖂𝖊𝖑𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖊, 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖛𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖊𝖗.
ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ, ꜱʜᴀʀᴇ ᴀ ᴛᴀʟᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴊᴏɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴜꜱꜱɪᴏɴ. ʟɪᴠᴇʟʏ ʙᴜᴛ ʀᴇꜱᴘᴇᴄᴛꜰᴜʟ ᴅᴇʙᴀᴛᴇ ɪꜱ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʜᴀʟʟ — ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴏᴅꜱ ᴛʜᴇᴍꜱᴇʟᴠᴇꜱ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ᴀ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀ ꜱʜᴀʀᴘ ᴍɪɴᴅ.
ʙᴜᴛ ᴍɪɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍᴀɴɴᴇʀꜱ: ᴀʙᴜꜱᴇ, ʀᴜᴅᴇɴᴇꜱꜱ, ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴘᴀᴍ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ꜱᴡɪꜰᴛʟʏ ᴄᴀꜱᴛ ᴏᴜᴛ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏʟᴅ, ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴀᴠᴇɴꜱ ᴡɪʟʟ ɪɢɴᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍ.
ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ᴡɪꜱʜ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛ, ᴀ ꜱɪᴍᴘʟᴇ ᴇᴍᴏᴊɪ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴅᴏ — ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴀ ꜱɪʟᴇɴᴛ ɴᴏᴅ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇɴᴄʜᴇꜱ ɪꜱ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴀᴛᴇᴅ.
ɴᴏᴡ, ᴡᴀʀᴍ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱᴇʟꜰ ʙʏ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰɪʀᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴘᴇᴀᴋ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪꜱʜ.