The feast day of Herne (18th October) for me marks the transition from Autumn to Winter. Many people believe that All Hallows is when His Wild Hunt first rides out, yet recent sensations of electricity and restlessness in the night-time air seems to suggest otherwise. Offerings of a fine raw organic beef steak, some homemade bread, an apple and a cup of rich frothy ale were set before a humble representation of the Horned Hunter which sat next to a sapling Oak I grew a couple of years ago from an acorn. Strangely enough a small Vervain plant has sprung up in the same pot, a herb I have come to think of as His. Plumes of Incense smoke carried the scent of Pine Resin and Oakmoss from incense dedicated to Him high into the night air, reminiscent of the morning mists and night-time fog, which have yet to arrive in these parts and often provide the perfect means whereby the spectral company of Hounds, Horses and their riders can materialise at Herne’s will. A solitary Goose feather lay at His feet…a nod to Dame Holda. If you venture out at night around now you can see Her quite clearly. The ancient Greeks and contemporary astronomers call Her ‘Cygnus’ the Swan, yet for me it is quite obviously Old Mother Goose, leading souls to Her celestial abode…May She gather us home again!