Between the Seasons: The Halcyon Days of Late Summer

Is it still summer? Is it fall yet? Honestly… it’s both and neither.

These few weeks between late summer and the official turn of autumn have a magic all their own.

The Greeks had a word for this pause: the halcyon days.

What Are the Halcyon Days?

In Greek mythology, Alcyone and Ceyx were transformed into kingfishers by the gods. Out of compassion, the seas were calmed for a brief time so Alcyone could safely nest her eggs. Those quiet stretches of calm water became known as the halcyon days.]

Today, the phrase means golden, peaceful days — a lull in the storms of life.

And if you’ve ever stood barefoot in the garden in early September, you know exactly what that feels like.

The Liminal Season

That’s what late summer feels like. The garden still gives, but evenings whisper of sweaters.

We often rush to label things — summer or fall, light or dark, start or finish. But nature isn’t in a hurry. She lingers here, in the threshold. Not one thing, not the other. And that’s where the magic lives.

This in-between isn’t wasted time. It’s a season of ripening, of integration, of preparing for what comes next.

Botanicals of the In-Between

Some plants embody this threshold beautifully:

Sunflower – still chasing the sun but heavy with seed.

Apple – the first fruits of autumn.

Goldenrod – a bright banner of the season’s shift.

Gather them on your table, in a vase, or as a walk-by noticing in the wild. Each one reminds us that change is beautiful.

Simple Rituals for the Halcyon Days

You don’t need anything elaborate to honor this liminal time. A few gentle practices go a long way:

A dusk candle.  Light a flame as the day softens into night.

A gratitude walk.  Notice what’s still blooming, what’s fading, and what’s being harvested.

Herbs hung to dry.  A nod to both preservation and patience.

These small acts remind us to savor the pause instead of rushing ahead.

Why It Matters

These days aren’t waiting rooms. They’re a season of their own.

If summer is the spell and autumn is the casting, then the halcyon days are the breath before the words. They give us space to soften, notice, and prepare.

Savor the Spell

So here’s your invitation: don’t hurry through. Linger a little. Pour the last of the iced tea while eyeing your favorite sweater. Pick apples with sandy toes from your last beach walk.

This is the magic of the halcyon days — a spell worth savoring.

Carry the Season Home

If you’d like to bring this threshold season into your home, explore my shop of seasonal candles and botanicals — each one crafted to honor the quiet magic of now.