Last night was the closing festival for my Demon festivals. It was the final Court day. And today marks the start of the Leaving. Well, until next year. Last night began a mass exodus for the next two days while spirits leave my area and festivities to return from whence they came. Some will be returning to their patches of the spirit realms, whatever those may be, and others will be returning to locales they’re from.

I feel like I should post a “Spirit Crossing” sign somewhere. Perhaps one day I will.

The last three and a half months have been amazing. The spiritual activity has been vibrant and full of import. Occasionally ridiculous and fun, mischievous and devilish. Other times it’s been sad, depressing, or inciting rage and soberness. These are all things I expect when working with spirits. I keep my doors open to all spirits, all demons, all fae. Everyone’s welcome, even the marked enemies. This is a time for celebration, for striking deals, for making plans, for avoiding and even waging war.

And deals have been struck. One new alliance has been founded, an assassination has been avoided, and another alliance and acquisition is in the talks and will likely be concluded before winter season truly begins. I’m grateful for what’s occur during this time and I’m fascinated, as always, by the political and social mechanisms of spirits.

The last few nights have been interesting around here personally. A lot of things have fallen over or been moved. Dials have been turned that haven’t been touched in years (like on the sewing machine), items placed at the bottom of the trash have mysterious been taken out of the trash, twice, once the trash can was knocked over, an empty drink can tossed across the room, and a towel thrown. Gravity could be to blame, certainly, but it is suspect. Additionally, the giggling and conversations that have been occurring around here when there is no one to be having said conversations is worth noting. The goblins are preparing to ride out, to bring their chaos and deviltry to others. You’ve been warned.

Other spirits, stronger, older, wiser, more politically strong or personally powerful spirits are preparing their appropriate entourages and preparing for their own journeys home. I wish them the best, sincerely, and hope to hear from many of them soon. (And, well, maybe I’m sort-of looking forward to the gifts I’m always given at the end of the season. Maybe.)

Most notably, because of this mass movement, those who are looking to work with spirits may wish to put out offerings for them. Just remember, because I work with all sorts, be sure to give a few days trial before setting but anything long-term. Just because they seem sweet in the beginning does not mean they always are. For example, those trash-throwing goblins also broke no less than four drinking glasses this season. In two days.

Seasonally, it’s starting to feel like the middle of fall. Jackets and coats are needed and sandals have been tucked away. Scarves are out in full force and whispers of snow tipple from the lips of news reporters. While we wait for the snow, pedestrians get their final warm days in, their shoes crunching in the brightly fallen leaves, taking in the beauty of the decay around them.

My next festival isn’t until the Feasting at the end of the month, where I bake up a storm to celebrate the United States’ holiday of Thanksgiving, but also invite friends, both human and not, to join in on new recipes, home brews, and delicious food. To celebrate our friendships, gossip and talk trash about since we’ve last seen each other. Some of the spirits that have been here for my Demon Festivals will be there was the Feasting and this further ties out alliances closer together. It’s also a great time to enchant food consumed by loved ones for their prosperity, wealth, and good health.

I love celebrating with spirits. I love enjoying their company without ever requiring them to give me something in return. And I love giving them the chance to interact and ask questions about humans that’s in a no-pressure sort of way. Sometimes spirits don’t want to be worshiped. They don’t want to help us, guide us, or even be offered something. Sometimes they just want to do the spirit equivalent of running to the store for milk. And my festivals, although sounds highly ritualistic, are actually just giant parties where spirits can let down their not-always-metaphorical hair and breathe.

But at the same time I’m very glad for the festivals to be over. Some things I’ve let slid since the festivals started, partially because I’m only partially here; there’s always some bit of me there, traveling and riding in the wild hunts, celebrating and raising a glass.

It’s been a good run. Now to start thinking about buckling down for winter.