I stood in circle on the flat hill just below the Long Man of Wilmington yesterday with about 60 other people to celebrate the first harvest of Lughnasadh. The Weald stretched out below and the land was a tapestry of green and gold, whilst a combine harvester moved its way lazily across one of the fields. John Barleycorn falling before our eyes. Someone spoke for the Sun, the Eye of Bel, the constant bringer of day and the changing seasons, without the Sun there would be no harvest. Someone spok