Draw the House In.

The season is moving. The ritual is the same regardless of which direction it's moving in.

In the south: This is the first drawing-in. The light is shorter now, the evenings arriving earlier, the house beginning to want you inside it. Close the windows that have been open since December. The house wants to hold its warmth. Bring something in from outside — a branch still holding its leaves, a stone smooth from recent rain, a stem of rosemary. A single autumn thing, carried in with intention. Set it where you'll see it every morning. Let it mark the turn toward Samhain.

In the north: This is the first opening. Post-Ostara, heading toward Beltaine — the world is alive and asking you to be in it. Open the window you've kept closed all winter. Bring something in from outside — the first cutting from the garden, a branch in new bud, something green and just-starting. Let it mark the turn toward the fire.

Both practices: one candle, lit earlier than you usually would. Not when it's dark. Before that — mid-afternoon, when the light is doing something particular to the room. The candle at this hour is not practical. That's the point.

The wheel turns. The house knows which way you're facing. Both directions lead somewhere worth going.