It's that time again, where the world takes the colours of fire, and
the fields are veiled by a cloth in its tones; dark yellow, red and
orange, the skies at dusk emit a red light that resembles blood, a
warning that the days ahead will be hard, the forests and the mountains
become silent. This is a time where everyting becomes more magical and
mysterious.
This is the time to pray and to thank, to the
Landvaettir, spirits of the world, to pray to the ancestors who still
look over us and guide us. At dusk I will sound my horn, and offer to
Freyr and Freya.
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