Most of my favorite rituals happen in the fall. Some I can explain, like bringing the plants inside and stacking firewood. Some I can’t really justify – like hanging a bundle of sage and lavender from my south windows.

One of my dearest fall rituals is winterizing the camper. Almost eight years ago my friends and I went in together on a little pop up camper. It was one of the best decisions of my life.

So every fall, after the camping season has come to a close, I put her up one last time in the driveway. I wash the bedding and the tablecloth and the towels and seal them away. I sweep. I wipe down the counters and scrub the floor. I burn incense and a smudge stick.

And then I pack everything back in, put a bottle of gin in the fridge to overwinter—ready to celebrate the opening of next season—seal her up, and drive her to her winter parking spot.

This ritual, more than any others, makes me a firm believer in the power of ritual. It transforms something that would otherwise feel like a chore into something sacred. Today the sky was so blue and the November wind blew cold, sending the leaves fluttering down out of the trees. It was so potent that I imagine next spring when I crank up the camper top a cold November wind will come rushing out.

It’s not just a chance to prepare for the future, it’s a practice in gratitude for the past. When I wipe the counter I remember it full of our backpacks and snacks. I remember the smell of the coffee when we get it ready before bed so that in the morning all we have to do is push the button. When I scrub the floor I remember our bare feet treading over it in the middle of the night to trek to the bathroom, the sand we tracked in from the beach, and when we stood in the doorway and watched the rain fall outside right as we finished cooking breakfast. When I light the smudge stick I remember the nights around the fire, when the wood just wouldn’t catch, and the mornings where it lit so easily with nothing but last night’s embers and our breath.

This camper is a portal to magic so this ritual is easy. The magic is right there at the surface.

Maybe that’s always true and we just forget to look.