A leaf of the almanac · the Constant press

The Round, for the Year 641

Torn from the Constant press almanac for 641. (witnessed)

The press attests nothing it has only printed, and says so on every cover. (told, the press)

The year is the Round, kept by seasons and by turnings of the moon, not by numbered months. Six days to the week, Firstday to Sixthday. (told, the almanac)

Knotting Night and the Loosing midwinter, the year-turn

One night, two gestures, at the same fires. A knot is tied into the household cord for the year now ending, and the eldest gives its Telling. (told, the almanac)

Then one knot is untied, chosen by its holder in private, and let go into the new year's dark. (told, the almanac)

Every child stays up to see which knot the grandmother unties. No grandmother has ever told, that anyone has heard. (guessed)

The Giving-Back early spring

A newborn cannot hold its own first year, so the village holds it, and gives it back at the age of asking, five or six. (told, the almanac)

The roads fill with midwives, carrying first cries back to children old enough to ask for them. (told, the almanac)

The Slack declared, not dated

The seasonal loosening: forgetting quickens, thinnings open like weather, and most of the year's fragments surface. It is the dangerous season and the harvest at once. (told, the almanac)

It is declared by the Circle in Constant lands, by the Firekeepers at the fires, and by whoever's grandmother has the standing in a Selvage village. The declarations never quite agree. (told, the almanac)

So this almanac prints no date for it: no date printed (told, the almanac)

Its end is First Quiet, the night the declarations lapse. Nobody works. Sit in your doorway with your neighbors and be, visibly, still here. (told, the almanac)

The Standings late summer into autumn

Sanctioned exhibition Reckonings at the Ring and the larger towns; the great fairs of the Tally; the Patient Company on tour. (told, the almanac)

And the dumpling, argued at its highest pitch: every region still says it invented the dish, and privately admits it tastes best one region east. The press takes no side. (guessed)

Lantern Night the end of autumn

The Ledger of the Unreturned is read aloud at the Cellar Gates, every name, and a flame is lit for each along the Lantern Rows. (held, the Constant)

It is the one night the Deepseekers, who belong nowhere, are at home everywhere. (told, the almanac)

The Telling Days early winter, to Knotting Night

The rota season. Evenings with the blurring old are scheduled for the winter, the blank rows are tended before frost, and the year's dead are given their Last Tellings while the roads still let the far kin come. (told, the almanac)

It is not a somber season. It is soup, and lamplight, and company: the warm end of the year. (told, the almanac)

Then the fires are built up, the cords brought out, and the Round closes on Knotting Night, as above. (told, the almanac)

The moon

Wagers at the Tally are made at the full. An overcast full moon is an unheld round: good for nothing but soup and staying in. (told, the almanac)

Fade-cloth is washed at the waning, by a custom too old for anybody to defend. (told, the almanac)