Curse of the Harvest

Every year, around the fall in Rainhold every farmer, peasant, and commoner fears the Curse of the Harvest. Clouds of grey cover the sun, just a little, but enough. Only small bits of light can make their way through the shroud. The fields and farms start to turn brown and dry and an uncomfortable presence fills the air, as though someone is always watching you. Children who were healthy and happy one day, fall ill in the night and die the next morn, their skin grey and cold. The deer and rabbits cease to exist in the hold. Trees turn black, bending and withering. Dogs go wild and attack their owners and graves once full are now found empty. Men an women disappear in the night, one, by, one.
Some people ignore it, the don't believe the curse. "Fall can be hard" they say. "The fields go brown no matter what." But they still can't explain everything else that happens. Those who believe in the curse dread it every year, their only reprieve is that once winter strikes the curse ends, but that doesn't change the fact that every year they loose food, they food they need to feed their people and horses, that they loose their children and families. The people of Rainhold have hired Black Daggers to try and lift the curse but no Dagger has ever found its source. 
The farmers make wreaths and hang them outside their doors to ward of the curse from their holm.