For example, I used to live in Los Angeles. In my heart, of course, I lived in Ireland, like so many of you, I'm sure. Green hills, cool misty twilights, silence, faeries, magic and open spaces were what I longed for, but brown mountains, almost constant sunshine and heat, noise and crowded freeways were what I had. How to reconcile? How to celebrate seasons that don't seem to exist? And yet, if I don't, how will my spirit continue to thrive?

Those thoughts led me to look around at what reminds me of the change of seasons, of cycles turning the Great Wheel before my eyes. Now that I do live in a misty green place, with open hills and the sound of the sea near, I still have the same Celtic soul within me that longs for the autumn harvest and the deepening days. My Persephone-self feels a turning inward as I begin my descent into the time of deepest personal power. It occurs to me that it's the feeling that brings on my inner autumn, and the externals are just tools I can use to celebrate what is already within me.

How do you affirm your spirituality season to season? Do you celebrate the seasons of where you live, or the seasons of the tradition you practice? For example, I know one Southern California circle that strictly follows the Celtic seasons in their holiday rituals, seasons that bear little resemblance to their own, even seeking out Indian corn and pumpkins in August (no easy feat). Another group in the same area is able to recreate the Greek agricultural mysteries in their original seasons, as the Mediterranean climate is so similar. Most of us probably use a combination of seasons of the land and seasons of the soul.

Feeling the pull of the darkness approaching, and the call of the Underworld as Persephone moves into her own deepening, I now find more signs of the season to enhance my personal journey: a new slant of light through the trees, the return of the monarch butterflies, my neighbor's persimmon tree bursting into flaming color. Cider appears alongside the apple juice in the supermarket, and the flower stands are filled with blood-red chrysanthemums and brilliant dried leaves. At the bookstore, I see magazines celebrating autumn, a cozy gathering-in of food and craft. Squashes, nuts and other foods that store well are more prominently displayed at the farmers market, rather than the short-lived peaches and berries of summer. Even the fact that produce prices have gone up is a way to keep in touch with the Earth's natural cycles. I see it... I feel it... winter is coming. The Wheel is turning.

And this, of course, brings us to pie.

Pie? What does pie have to do with the seasons? Well, in my own internal calendar, the change from summer to fall cries out for apple and pumpkin, and there is no other time of year in which I make pies. This strange longing toward pie is what prompted all this seasonal musing, for apples and pumpkin (canned, which is what I use to make pumpkin pie anyway) are available all year, and yet I only make these pies between Autumn Equinox and January. It's a mystical connection, an homage, perhaps, to my foremothers and their apple and pumpkin harvests.

The symbolism of apples and of pumpkins is particularly suited to the season. Apples are a magical fruit in many cultures and traditions, from the golden apples sacred to Aphrodite to the apple of wisdom Eve handed her daughters. Slice an apple horizontally, and its seeds reveal a pentagram, ancient sign of integration and magic. Avalon, "apple isle," is the mystical retreat of the soul's wanderings in Arthurian lore, the place from which we gather strength for the return. Apples also represent divination, from the simple act of twisting off the stem as you recite letters of the alphabet to find the name of your own true love, to bobbing for apples (a variation on scrying). The duality of birth and death, love and separation, are all represented by the apple, sacred fruit of immortality. Is it any wonder we hunger for apples in the fall, when the Underworld beckons and the path turns inward?

Pumpkins are a natural symbol of the Goddess's fertility, filled with seeds and plump with sweet flesh. The spirit of the ancestors is invoked by the pumpkin at Halloween, when faces and other images are carved into it, then set alight to honor those who are abroad when the veil is thin between the worlds. Round and orange, golden or white, the pumpkin mirrors the harvest moon, hanging low in the autumn nightsky. Psychic awareness, descent into the depths of the lunar self, discovery of hidden potential, all wax within us under the harvest moon. Death and rebirth are represented by the pumpkin as well, as the harvesting brings death, yet the seeds bring a new beginning. And let us not forget: with a wave of the wand, the pumpkin can be turned into a magic coach that carries us to the place where our wildest dreams come true.

But why pie? Why not apple crisp, apple cider, apple cake? Pumpkin bread, pumpkin soup, pumpkin muffins?

First of all, is there any dish that reminds us more of home than pie? Home seems especially important in the fall, and the feeling of harvest home runs deep in all of us. Mom and apple pie, the giving of thanks for abundance with a pumpkin pie, the simplicity of pie, the humble goodness of pie ... a piece of homemade pie, made with love, is a gift that can comfort the weariest soul. Don't you just know that Demeter saw Persephone off into the Underworld with a nice apple pie tucked in her basket? Would Hecate let all those Halloween pumpkins go to waste? Of course not.

My favorite pie recipes appear below, but every cook brings her own spices and preferences to her pie magic. Remember, the difference between magic and mundane is the intention you bring to each act. So when you place the uncooked filling in the unbaked crust, visualize it as the makings of a spell you wish to manifest. See the cooking process as the fire energy brought to bear on the watery wish-stage of your magic. After it is baked, the air cools it, adding another element of magic. And the earth element? Eating, of course! The pie becomes part of you, and so does the magic.

Autumn brings change, a letting go and a gathering in. The apples of wisdom and pumpkins of transformation feed and sustain us for the journey into the dark part of the year. Like a sweet round pie, every turn of the Wheel is full of promise and deliciousness.