Ah, autumn—the time when the world spins in a tapestry of gold, amber, and crimson, when the air is laced with a chill that whispers of the long winter’s sleep to come. For Jade Ann Byrne, the turning of the seasons was not just a natural cycle but a sacred rite, a passage that spoke to her Druidic and Gypsy Pagan soul, echoing through her bones like a long-forgotten song. And as she wandered through this world, she carried with her the weight of her German and Irish ancestors, whose stories wove together the old ways with the whims of nature itself.

Her ancestors, both Irish and German, had always revered the turning of the year, each autumn more meaningful than the last, bound by the cycles of harvest and the fall of the leaf. You see, the Germans—staunch and resolute—believed that the autumn wind carried not just the scent of dying leaves but the very breath of their god Wotan, who marched through the forests with his Wild Hunt, gathering souls that wandered too far into the woods. Their word for autumn, Herbst, harkened to the harvest, that most ancient of rituals, where men and women gathered the fruits of their labor before the long sleep of winter.

In Ireland, Jade’s ancestors were of a different breed—fierce and wild, gypsies, and healers. To them, autumn was Samhain, the thinning of the veil between worlds, a time when the spirits of the dead roamed freely, welcomed by bonfires and feasts of plenty. The Gypsy Pagans of old danced to celebrate the cycle of death and rebirth, knowing well that what died in the autumn would rise again in the spring. As they cast their harvest wheat into the fire, they honored the earth for her gifts, knowing that every fall of the leaf was just the earth’s way of resetting the clock.

But it was the Druids who taught Jade to read the winds and listen to the trees. “The wind knows what’s coming,” her grandfather would say, his voice gruff as he brewed potions from wild mushrooms and nettles. Druids believed that every acorn that fell held the soul of a warrior, and each tree that shed its leaves whispered the ancient tales of battles fought and kingdoms fallen. In those forests of the ancient world, the Druid priests would gather under the oaks to worship the great cycle—the ever-turning wheel of the year.

Back then, it wasn’t autumn—it was the season of Harvest, as it was called in the old West Germanic tongues. Herbst for the Germans, Hairst for the Scots, and Harvest for the English. These words were reminders that the season was once ruled by the rhythms of the land. The land fed the people, and so they honored it by giving thanks with songs, festivals, and offerings. But as the towns and cities grew, fewer hands touched the soil, and the old term began to fade. Harvest no longer referred to the season, only the act of reaping. Soon, new words crept into the lexicon—autumn, from the Latin, and fall, a term closer to home.

The “fall of the leaf,” as the English poets of the 16th century mused, became a phrase for what had always been known in the simple beauty of the countryside. The phrase “fall of the leaf” sounded so poetic that it caught on, and soon “fall” became the common word for the season. When English settlers sailed across the Atlantic, they took this word with them. In the bustling New World, where the trees turned a fiery red and gold, “fall” became the dominant term, while back in Europe, they clung to the more formal “autumn.”

But for Jade, it was always Harvest, always the season when the earth called its children to gather around. In those moments of falling leaves, she could feel the hands of her German ancestors harvesting wheat, and the rhythmic beat of the Irish bodhrán drums in the distance, celebrating the last of the summer’s bounty. The wind seemed to carry their voices, a harmony of the ages.

Jade’s German grandfather, Heinrich, a stern old man with hands as calloused as an ancient oak, would tell her that the leaves falling were not just the end of the trees’ cycle but an invitation for something new. He’d talk of his ancestors, their blood tied to the Erdgeist—the spirit of the earth—who nourished the land with every dying leaf. To him, every time the wind whipped through the trees in autumn, it was Wotan himself summoning those willing to brave the Wild Hunt.

Her Irish grandmother, Saoirse, would paint a different picture—one of mist-covered hills and the ever-watchful eyes of the Fair Folk. For her, the wind carried the voices of the Banshee, the fairy queen who cried out when the veil between the living and dead grew thin. “In autumn, Jade, you must always listen carefully. The dead aren’t far, and neither are the secrets they keep.”

And as the winds of autumn blew through the modern world, with its cities and its concrete, Jade would sometimes find herself wandering, thinking of her ancestors. She knew that the old ways were not lost but hidden, buried beneath centuries of words and stories. “The earth remembers,” she’d say, as she scattered seeds into the soil, honoring the cycle, the death that leads to rebirth.

For Jade Ann Byrne, autumn was not just the fall of the leaf but the rise of ancient magic—a time to dance with the dead, to harvest the fruits of one’s labor, and to prepare for the long winter’s rest. The stories of her ancestors lived on in every gust of wind, every crunch of leaves underfoot, and every flicker of firelight on a cool autumn night.

And so, as she watched the leaves fall, Jade smiled, knowing that the old gods were never far. Whether called autumn or fall, the season spoke of the eternal cycle—and that, in itself, was enough to keep the fires of old burning bright in her heart.

With all my love 💜

As I change my colours;

Jade Ann Byrne

“As autumn arrives, Jade Ann Byrne, a modern Druid and Gypsy Pagan, honors the ancient traditions of her German and Irish ancestors. With vibrant foliage falling and the cycles of nature unfolding, she embraces the season of change, celebrating the harvest and connection to the earth.”

Multilingual Excerpts (Love Languages):

1. Spanish (Español):

“Con la llegada del otoño, Jade Ann Byrne, una moderna druida y gitana pagana, honra las antiguas tradiciones de sus ancestros alemanes e irlandeses. Con el follaje vibrante cayendo y los ciclos de la naturaleza desplegándose, ella abraza la estación del cambio, celebrando la cosecha y la conexión con la tierra.”

2. French (Français):
“À l’arrivée de l’automne, Jade Ann Byrne, une druidesse moderne et gitane païenne, honore les anciennes traditions de ses ancêtres allemands et irlandais. Avec un feuillage vibrant qui tombe et les cycles de la nature qui se déploient, elle embrasse la saison du changement, célébrant la récolte et la connexion à la terre.”

3. Italian (Italiano):
“Con l’arrivo dell’autunno, Jade Ann Byrne, una moderna druida e gitana pagana, onora le antiche tradizioni dei suoi antenati tedeschi e irlandesi. Con le foglie vibranti che cadono e i cicli della natura che si dispiegano, abbraccia la stagione del cambiamento, celebrando il raccolto e la connessione con la terra.”

4. German (Deutsch):
“Mit dem Einzug des Herbstes ehrt Jade Ann Byrne, eine moderne Druidin und Zigeunerhexe, die alten Traditionen ihrer deutschen und irischen Vorfahren. Mit fallendem, lebendigem Laub und dem Entfalten der Naturzyklen begrüßt sie die Jahreszeit des Wandels und feiert die Ernte und die Verbindung zur Erde.”

5. Portuguese (Português):
“Com a chegada do outono, Jade Ann Byrne, uma druida moderna e cigana pagã, honra as antigas tradições de seus ancestrais alemães e irlandeses. Com folhagens vibrantes caindo e os ciclos da natureza se desenrolando, ela abraça a estação da mudança, celebrando a colheita e a conexão com a terra.”

6. Dutch (Nederlands):
“Met de komst van de herfst eert Jade Ann Byrne, een moderne druïde en zigeunerpaganist, de oude tradities van haar Duitse en Ierse voorouders. Terwijl het kleurrijke loof valt en de natuurcycli zich ontvouwen, omarmt ze het seizoen van verandering, viert ze de oogst en haar verbinding met de aarde.”