Basic North

2012-02-06T14:59:00.000-08:00

Chinese Lantern Festival 2012

The Lantern Festival, is held on the fifteenth day of the Chinese Lunar New Year,
and marks the end of the New Year Spring Festival Celebration.

Sky Lanterns are released at the end of the Spring festival.
The lanterns float up into the heavens and carry wishes and prayers
for good fortune in the coming year.

2012-02-01T18:00:00.000-08:00

IMBOLC, The Day of Brighid

We've come half way from the Winter Solstice to the Vernal Equinox. Deep inside the Earth, the seeds are stirring, preparing to sprout ...

Have you seen the Jack-in-the-Green?
With his long tail hanging down
He sits quietly under every tree
In the folds of his velvet gown.
He drinks from the empty acorn cup
The dew that Dawn sweetly bestows.
And taps his cane upon the ground
Signals the Snowdrops it's time to grow.

2012-01-24T13:47:00.000-08:00

Chinese New Year 2012

...an auspicious year

these "little dragons" are actually Foo Dogs, but they are protectors
and lucky symbols as well. This pair is owned by my friend
Jerry Bazar and appear here with his permission.

2012-01-19T17:51:00.000-08:00

The Dark of Winter

even Snoopy can get the winter-time blues ...

glowing lanterns can light the night ...

2012-01-06T20:14:00.000-08:00

January 6, 2012, Epiphany - The Adoration of the Magi

2011-12-31T10:57:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year!

"Joyful as the silver planets run ..." Jethro Tull

2011-12-29T17:31:00.000-08:00

Thursday, December 29, 2011 - The Fifth Day of Christmas

2011-12-24T15:48:00.000-08:00

Greetings of the Season ~ Peace on Earth

2011-12-21T01:00:00.000-08:00

Winter Solstice

Perhaps
for a moment
the typewriters will stop clicking,
the wheels will stop rolling
the computers will desist from computing,
and a hush will fall over the city.

For an instant,
in the stillness,
the chiming of the celestial spheres will be heard
as the earth hangs poised in the crystalline darkness,
and then gracefully
tilts.

... Rebecca Parker

September's Song

2011-09-22T17:40:00.000-07:00

An Asian Libra

A Mabon Pentagram

The Green Man at Equinox

The Final Sheaf of Wheat

The Constellation Libra

... and the Golden Star of Autumn is Fomalhaut ...

At Long Last, September

2011-09-21T11:38:00.000-07:00

Spring rain damps;
Autumn rain soaks.

Here is what I'm doing ... I'm sitting here contemplating dreary northern hemisphere autumn-on-set gray skies and a rainy day; the house is beginning to feel sorta damp and chilly, and I got the electric blanket out but the dogs are hogging it, and the space heater shuts off every time someone breathes on it, and I'm fighting the urge to turn the furnace on. This is the time I call this Mongolian hunter and his Golden Eagle up on my screen and meditate on him and his life. After a few minutes, I decide I can last one more day without heat. What I actually want is a yurt in the backyard, or even better, out in the north woods someplace - as long as I can have internet hook-ups I'm ok.

SHROVE TUESDAY

2011-03-07T22:58:00.000-08:00

FEBRUARY 29, 2011

2011-03-03T18:43:00.000-08:00

The day my Snowdrops bloomed this year! Can spring be far away?

Chinese New Year 2011 Year of the Rabbit!

2011-02-09T14:13:00.000-08:00

February 03, 2011
"THE YEAR OF THE GOLDEN RABBIT!

The Chinese New Year begins at the New Moon (conjunction of the Sun and Moon) and festivities and the celebrations continue until the Full Moon. This is an approximate period of 15
days of celebration which ends with the Lantern festival.

More Word Craft

2011-01-25T13:39:00.000-08:00

Night in Bombay by Louis Bromfeld c. 1939 - 1940

His luggage was all ready to be taken ashore, his cabin in order
and now he stood on the upper deck just beneath the bridge
watching the flying fish scud out of each jade green land swell of
the Arabian Gulf like swift pencils of silver and disappear again in
glittering jets of spray. He was a tall, good-looking fellow with
square shoulders over which his Hanover Street tailor found no
need to put any padding. His clothes said " London" in a discreet
whisper, but you knew at once that he was an American. There
was something in the blue eyes, the pitch of the chin, but more
than anything in the generous, full curve of the lips and the tiny
lines about the eyes which betrayed him. His face told you that he
came of a people who were gamblers, who were sometimes reckless,
and a people who knew how to laugh. He was the American who
knew his way about the world, and so in many ways he was danger-
ous, to himself perhaps more than to others.

........................................................

A voice beside him said, "Good morning," and he turned to find
Mrs. Trollope standing beneath his elbow. She was a tiny woman
but very tough, who came from Sydney. She was on her way from
London to Bombay to stop off for a fortnight and then go on to
Australia. ........

"Good morning," he said. "Beautiful morning."

"Yes," said Mrs. Trollope. "But it's always fine here this time
of the year."

"Funny things--flying fish."

"Yes," Mrs. Trollope wasn't much gifted in the appreciation of
nature. She sniffed the air. "Ah!" she said. "Smell it? That Bom-
bay smell."

He sniffed and became aware of a smell he knew at once--a curi-
ous mixed smell faintly dominated by the smell of drying fish.

" Bombay duck."

"Yes."

But there was more to the smell than that. There was in it the
compounded odors of spice and wood smoke, of jasmine and mari-
gold and of dust and copra and cow dung smoke. And for Wain-
wright there was much more in it--there was the strange excitement
of memories--memories of parties, of drinking, of easy seduc-
tions, of extraordinary nights beneath a sky of blue velvet in which
stars glittered like diamonds, of rides in gherries, down from some
garden suspended on the side of Malabar Hill, to the Hotel Taj
Mahal; memories of an immense, cool room of white marble high
above the bay. The man who a little while before had packed so
meticulously and felt so virtuous, trembled a little with apprehen-
sion. It was, decidedly, a dangerous smell, but deliciously exciting."

Twelfth Night 2011

2011-01-05T18:36:00.001-08:00

"Now Christmas is past,
Twelfth Day is the last,
To the Old Year adieu,
Great joy to the New."

Welsh Twelfth Day Carol

According to Don Cerow who writes a newsletter under the pseudonym "Star Myths," we're in the season of the eclipse. Indeed, the night of the Winter Solstice was marked by a beautiful Lunar Eclipse, and January 4, the day of the New Moon will host a Solar Eclipse. I will take the liberty of quoting a bit of Mr. Cerow's prose, because I think it so beautifully captures the Spirit of the Winter nights.

"We're in the Eclipse Season"

Winter New Moon's are particularly long and dark. Depending on your latitude, the sun goes down for the count during the winter, remaining below the horizon much more than above. While there, he surrenders his fair share of the day to the Lady of the Night, La Luna, in return for favors to be named at a later date.

Tonight's the night fleet-footed Diana catches her brother in a monthly race between the siblings. At the finish, they generally hide out together for a few days and relax unseen by mortal eyes among the cool marble pillars of Olympus. Per usual , those of us here in North American will not catch a glimpse of their rendezvous this month, but others might be a little luckier. Any who travel to Europe, North Africa, the Middle East and beyond will be among those able to get down on one knee and watch through the keyhole as the two are reunited. Careful observers will see the Curvacious One lying just inside Apollo's Sun-Kissed chamber. Diana will later return to the duties of her realm as she generally does. In the meantime the stars and sprites have been left in her stead to keep an eye over the darkened woodland paths and trails.

They'll report back to her later.

And, of course, Twelfth Night also brings the day of Epiphany, and the story of the Three Kings of the East, who traveled afar to bring gifts to the newborn Baby King of the Jews.

And because Winter lasts, and Epiphany indicates the end of the festival season of Yuletide, the season of Carnival begins in most of the world ... the season of distorted time, and the suspension of rules of social structure continue, celebration, feasting and merry making continue to be the rule of the land.

NEW YEAR'S DAY 2011

2011-01-01T12:36:00.000-08:00

Solstice Lunar Eclipse

2010-12-20T16:37:00.000-08:00

First Solstice Lunar Eclipse since 1638

The actual instant of Winter Solstice 2010 will occur Tuesday, December 21 at 6:38pm EST in the Northern Hemisphere. This year the full moon coincides with the Solstice and for the third leg of the Triple Play, those of us who live in North America will also be able to witness a total Lunar Eclipse beginning at 1:33Am EST on the morning of the 21st, and will reach totality at 2:41 AM. The eclipse will be visible in many parts of the world including Europe, and it is estimated that 1.5 billion people may view it.

I "borrowed" this wonderful picture from the blog page of a friend - it wasn't credited, but in style it reminds me of some of the wonderful "Vogue" magazine covers from the early part of the 20th Century ... all style and grace and full of the mysticism the age so wonderfully represented in its Art Nouveau. This particular illustration is titled "Christmas Moon," and the coloring is very appropriate for this year's Solstice Lunar Eclipse because it is a good representation of the rusty, cinnamon-ish color of the moon at the moment of total eclipse.

Ancient cultures had many myths to explain all the celestial phenomena which they constantly observed ... the great henges, earth works and even the temples of the Mayans all recorded the instant of the solstices and equinoxes - the Chinese and other Asian cultures explained that a giant dragon was eating the "pearl" that was the moon and in villages and cities and temple courtyards drums were beaten vigorously until the dragon relented and the moon began to reappear. This evening in my part of the US, the skies will be overcast and I won't be able to see the eclipse, but I will have a fire on the sparkling snow and at the moment of totality, I will light incense and listen for the sounds of ancient drums and bell as my ancient ancestors chase the dragons away from the moon.

December 23, 2010

My favorite childhood memory is of walking along downtown sidewalks with my father during the Christmas season and stopping to look in the shop windows ... one of the most magical was a window with a decorated Christmas tree glowing with lights and beneath, a toy electric train endlessly circling its own infinite track. There were other wonderful toys in that window as well, and my father and I talked earnestly about each one. I was probably no more than four years old, so this could have been during the War, or just following. Anyway, one of my gifts on Christmas morning that year was an electric train. I've still got pictures of that Christmas morning; small, black and white snap shots produced by a little Kodac box camera. That year is my "Christmas Story" memory ... the wonder and excitement of all those windows, being with my father, holding his hand so tightly and sharing a special time with him.

Sixty years and more have passed since the Christmas that produced my enchanted memory; my daughter and I are partners in a little antique shop in the southern part of the state, and this year we decorated the store windows for the "Hometown Holiday Festival." I helped with some of the less strenuous work, untangling lights, wrapping dummy packages and so forth, but Jen and another partner did the concept and the actual staging of the windows. I puttered all afternoon, I helped customers and generally kept busy away from the windows.

So, wouldn't you know, just before the official beginning of the "festival," when I looked into the window the girls had created, there was my "Christmas Story" memory come to life again ... the shock of deja vu was so strong it was almost physical ... it is a very strange feeling. Almost as though I've come full circle.

Dreams of visits from St. Nick, and Christmas toys must be nearly universal and almost as old as the legend of St. Nick himself, for they've been the subject of artist imagination for well over a century now.

Oh, The Weather Outside is frightful .....

2010-12-06T06:50:00.000-08:00

We here in Indiana are caught in an unexpected blast of frigid arctic air, and I'm all for staying inside by the fire with a cup of steaming hot tea and a good book (or the computer). Right now I'm
enjoying the pleasures of a down comforter and a properly prepared cup of Lapsang Souchong - it is a smokey, black tea who's fragrance is earthy and reminds me of primal woodland living ...

On days like this, when a person is able to indulge in the luxury of "staying in by the fire" the best comforts are often old friends, and in the case of books some of my favorite and familiar reads are those whose authors can carry a person off to another place and time with the power of description. One of my favorite descriptive passages comes from the pages of Hugh Lofting's "Dr. Dolittle," and centers about the ability of Jip, the dog, to interpret the world around him by using his super powers of scent:

************************

"Then Jip went up to the front of the ship and smelt the wind; and he
started muttering to himself,

'Tar; Spanish onions; kerosene oil; wet raincoats; crushed
laurel-leaves; rubber burning; lace-curtains being washed--No, my
mistake, lace-curtains hanging out to dry; and foxes--hundreds of
'em--cubs; and--'

'Can you really smell all those different things in this one wind?'
asked the Doctor.

'Why, of course!' said Jip. 'And those are only a few of the easy
smells--the strong ones. Any mongrel could smell those with a cold in
the head. Wait now, and I'll tell you some of the harder scents that
are coming on this wind--a few of the dainty ones.'

Then the dog shut his eyes tight, poked his nose straight up in the air
and sniffed hard with his mouth half-open.

For a long time he said nothing. He kept as still as a stone. He
hardly seemed to be breathing at all. When at last he began to speak,
it sounded almost as though he were singing, sadly, in a dream.

'Bricks,' he whispered, very low--'old yellow bricks, crumbling with
age in a garden-wall; the sweet breath of young cows standing in a
mountain-stream; the lead roof of a dove-cote--or perhaps a
granary--with the mid-day sun on it; black kid gloves lying in a
bureau-drawer of walnut-wood; a dusty road with a horses'
drinking-trough beneath the sycamores; little mushrooms bursting
through the rotting leaves; and--and--and--'

'Any parsnips?' asked Gub-Gub.

'No," said Jip. "You always think of things to eat. No parsnips
whatever.'

The Story of Dr. Dolittle, Hugh Lofton

Another author who's powers of description often catch my imagination is Anne Rice.
I found the following passage on line as an excerpt from the book, "The Servant of the Bones."
The description of this mountain house, fitted out for survival through a winter of writing caught my attention for two reasons; first, I am terribly fond of cabin living, particularly when the cabin is surrounded by tall pine forest and nestled in the mountains, and I was especially captured by the completeness with which the author had inventoried the supplies needed to sustain survival of both body and soul. I like the idea of roasting sweet potatoes over hot coals, and I loved the idea of all the writing and computer supplies ... though the list of essentials is now dated by the technical advances in computers and their accessories - my daughter has a 500 gig external hard drive for the computers which she shares with me, and I'm sure I couldn't find a drive for a small floppy disk in any of my new machines. Never-the-less, I was fascinated by the thinking .... "in my perfect world what would I need to have in order to survive and be content?" In the instance of Anne Rice's mountain refuge, I adore the idea of duplicate copies of all her books lining the walls, but I would also want some sort of media center which would afford me the delight of listening to favorite music and the pleasure of watching favorite motion pictures. I might want a the company of a cherished friend to toss ideas around with, and there is nothing like a nice warm dog to keep one's bed cozy and toasty on a chilly mountain night.

For Anne Rice's character, the madness of the modern world was an environment to be escaped; I can understand that desire, but having been isolated in mountain wilderness with only a very small and inefficient radio at hand, I find that I at least want to know what is going on in the world, and how I should prepare to cope with it. That last bit of nagging insecurity may be a result of 9/11, and my sense of isolation and helplessness over the shock of awakening to "pentagon attacked, FAA has shut down all air traffic." I was thankful enough for phone calls from my friends, and the coverage of television news to tell me what my sense of survival needed to know. The Rice book describes a set of actual news events, things which seem so insane one can understand the desire to escape hearing about them - I've often wondered how Ms. Rice would have fit 9/11 into the fabric of her story:

***********************

"Understand I am not insane or even eccentric by nature, and have never been self-destructive. I didn't go to the mountains to die. It had seemed a fine idea to seek out the absolute solitude of my northern house, unconnected to the world by phone, fax, television, or electricity. I had a book to complete which had taken me some ten years, and it was in this self-imposed exile that I meant to finish it.

The house is mine, and was then, as always, well stocked with plenty of bottled water for drinking, the oil and kerosene for its lamps, candles by the crate and electric batteries of every conceivable size for the small tape recorder I use and the laptop computers on which I work, and an enormous shed of dried oak for the fires I would need throughout my stay there.

I had the few medical necessaries a man can carry in a metal box. I had the simple food I eat and can cook by fire: rice, hominy, cans upon cans of saltless chicken broth, and also a few barrels of apples which should have lasted me the winter. A sack or two of yams I'd also brought , discovering I could wrap these in foil and roast them in my coal-and-oak fire.

I liked the bright orange color of yams. And please be assured, I was not proud of this diet, or seeking to write a magazine article on it. I'm simply tired of rich food; tired of crowded fashionable New York restaurants and glittering party buffets, and even the often wonderful meals offered me weekly by colleagues at their own tables. I am merely trying to explain. I wanted fuel for the body and the mind.

I brought what I needed so that I might write in peace. There was nothing peculiar about all of this. The place was already lined in books, its old barn wood walls fully insulated and then shelved to the ceiling. There was a duplicate here of every important text I ever consulted at home, and the few books of poetry I read over and over for ecstasy,

My spare computers, all small and very powerful beyond any understanding I ever hope to acquire of hard drives, bytes, megabytes of memory, or 486 chips, had been delivered earlier, along with a ludicrous supply of diskettes on which to "back up" or copy my work.

Truth is, I worked mostly by hand, on yellow legal pads. I had cartons of pens, the very fine-point kind, with black ink.

Everything was perfect.
And I should add here that the world I had left behind seemed just a little more mad than usual."

Servant of the Bones, Anne Rice, 1996

Advent, 2010

2010-11-28T15:12:00.000-08:00

The First Sunday of Advent, Anno Domini 2010

The lessons of childhood, when well and lovingly taught over the course of many growing seasons become the traditions of a lifetime, no matter how far the student may travel from home in the seasons of adulthood. So it was that today as I thought about many things, my sub-conscious suddenly informed me "this is the first Sunday of Advent." In the congreations of my childhood, fellow Lutherans watched solemnly as the first candle of the wreath was lit, and the organist began the introductory notes of "Come O Come Emmanuel!" I am sure that in all the existing Lutheran congregations of the world, Advent wreaths were lit today, and the first chords of that strangely melancholic entreaty to the Christ Child sounded through vaulted halls of worship.

I am many decades removed from my childhood in human years, and light-years removed in terms of human thought, perceptions of the Universe, and the place human beings occupy in the grand scheme of things. But still, some years more strongly than others, my inner being will harken back to those old days of other family and friends, softly flickering candle light, and words spoken with a sweetly familiar accent. So, memories of those times came to me today, unbidden, but welcome, and I will prepare to enjoy this holiday season with an inner ear listening to what it is those voices from another time have to tell me.

O come, O come, Emmanuel,
And ransom captive Israel,
That mourns in lonely exile here
Until the Son of God appear.

A Samhain Missed and A Bauble of Time

2010-11-03T10:54:00.000-07:00

Driving west across the late Autumn Indiana countryside, we are moving directly into a most stunning sunset - one of those seed crystal moments of nature in which a commonplace phenomenon blends so precisely into the whole of the consciousness that time seems to expand, contract and slow down.. One moves outside the realm of the chronological passing of time, and into an inexplicable, very sharp awareness that this "moment in time" is not of the same quality as the time measured by the ticking of a clock. For me, this particular sideways moment of existential sensation was heightened by the song coming from the radio, and my daughter's comment, "This is the perfect song for this sunset - Whiter Shade of Pale."

And it was quite so - the the mystery of the lyrics against languid tempo of the music, phased me into another notch of the "chambered nautilus" and an overwhelming sense of being witness to the incomprehensible came to me as the creation of the Universe from the Big Bang to the death of the dinosaurs flashed from my sub-conscious into my mind's eye. I caught at the fact that in all this Cosmic Cooking, the soup had boiled down to a single instant in the golden-stubbled harvest fields of a North American country-side, bathed in magenta sunlight swirled in the psychedelic lyrics of a particularly appropriate '60s rock tune. I asked my daughter if she had paused to reflect that for the two of us, all the eons of creation had boiled down to this moment in time ... this precise, surreal glimpse of how it all is. The answer came without a pause for composition of thought - "Yes." We were traveling on November 2, the last day directly related to the End-of-Summer days celebrated since the mists of time and now co-opted by the Western Church as its own Holy Day. It was an All Souls Day Sunset which brought me a vision of the cosmos as a Whiter Shade of Pale.

This year, for reasons which are buried in the "real world" and trying to find enough time to do everything that was required to be done, October slipped by without me. I knew it was October -
the most magical, exciting month of the Wheel, and I kept telling myself that I had plenty of time and help to prepare for a wonderful Samhain Celebration. I am October born, and even before I "knew" about October, and the Wheel of the Year and the special beliefs and celebrations of my ancestors, I KNEW about late Autumn, October and the special magic of darkening days that rules the world and the nature of time. The magic is strongest on Halloween and lasts until after the Winter Solstice. During these days the quality of time literally changes. The ancient Greeks showed their awareness when they gave two names to "time." Chronos is used to describe time in a quantitative way --- the kind of time we measure with a clock, and which can make us early or late, and somehow we're never able to quite manage it properly. But "Kairos" is a totally other concept ... Kairos is the quality of time which nearly all ancient cultures understood ... it is the "time which is not time," and can be the "time between." It can suspend the passage of the Cronos at certain times of the year, and allow us to travel between the worlds. It can be the quality of time which supports a mystic vision or an existential insight, or the gift of traveling in time on a vision quest .... and it is true that this quality of time is more accessible, more available and more insistent during the time of growing darkness; that time when daylight begins to grow short as the the Sun travels south of the equator toward the darkest, shortest day of the Wheel. It is the most magical time of the year, the time when the veil is the thinnest, when synchronicity is more obvious and when people the world over join in unexpected ways to share the same thoughts and experiences.

This year, a friend, who I know only through her internet blog and her magical painting, has written a wonderful piece about "The Time Thief" which struck me with its reference to the elusive nature of time, the idea that "animals" also experience Kairos, and that on the day she decided to experience gathering time, she learned that the old spirits who had come across for Halloween were still aware of Kairos .... Her name is Jackie Morris, and she has graciously allowed me to share her blog entry in my own blog. Jackie posted this on Halloween, October 31, but Kairos was at work in my favor and I found the post on November 2, All Souls Day.

Sunday, October 31, 2010

The Time Thief

Yesterday I spent most of the day gathering together the lost hours from all of the beings that are in and around my house. ( In the UK we have a curious system of time, run by clocks, where once a year the hands of time are turned backwards at 2 am.)

There were four human hours, all different. Each of the hours I caught in a net and moulded into a solid small bead. There were four dog hours that looked a little lazy and ill formed and four cat hours, bright beads like amber. In corners, almost hidden, I found complicated, soft spider hours, fast and scuttling mouse hours and outside there were feathered, drowsy flicks of bird hours, huddled in bundles in warm places. The hours were all from two in the morning. The birds had been sleeping.

It was a warm night, so to add to my string there were aerymice hours from the fast furious hunters of the starlit sky. These were dark, almost so dark that you could not see them, only visible from eye corners. And there were owl hours, curved like claws with moonlight a crescent in their form, somewhere.

And because it was All Hallows Eve there were other hours around from people and creatures who had lived in the house far back to when the stones were gathered from the fields around and shaped into walls. These were the hardest to catch.

Each bright bead formed from stray hours was different in character from the next. Each I gathered to myself, greedy to capture more time for when I needed it. As I strung the hours together the weight of time grew heavy, the hours all lay, coiled around and upon each other, each more beautiful than the last.

By the end of the day I was tired but the moonjar was full and I had hopes of how to use all the time I had trapped. I have so much work to do. I have to finish A Rhyme In Time by the end of January so that it can go to press to be published in the autumn of next year. I have some other work that I must push forward on as my part of this is one of the building blocks of a major project and it cannot progress without some drawings, some paintings. There are paintings that I wish to do, friends who I want to spend my time with and I would like to get out and walk more. And above all I would like time to just sit and think, either at home in the silence of the house or on the hillside, above the sea.
So, I thought I would test my time machine. A mouse hour would be good. Small, and round, it flickered with a nervous energy as I popped it into my mouth and swallowed it down.
What happened next was hard to explain. Mice live in a different time zone from humans. I know that now. An hour was like a year, but I could not use it wisely. Instead I hurried fast around the house, nervously pulling at this and at that, jumping at every loud noise, a minute seeming to be an hour, heart beating faster than the ticking clock. A bird hour was more elegant, but no more use to a human. I just wanted to be out of the house and could almost feel the place where my wings should be, and I yearned for the sky. The hour of a bird trapped in a human throws itself against the cage of the body in its desire to be free.

It had been a good idea, had made a beautiful collection, but it would never work.
You just can't capture time, although, if you are lucky you can steal a little of someone else's with an elegant pattern of words.

Jackie Morris is an illustrator, artist, and writer who lives in St. Davids, Pembrokeshire, Wales.
She is a mother, a keeper of cats, baker of bread and a good neighbor. Her home is a cottage
near the cliffs above the sea and she writes a personal blog:

http://www.drawingalineintime.blogspot.com/

And contributes (sometimes) to a second and even more magical blog:

http://www.wethreecats.blogspot.com/

New Landscape & A Warning of Seasonal Changes

2010-10-02T12:07:00.000-07:00

During a long lush summer of growing, and into the August month of ripening, the rural countryside became a veritable maze of corridors lined with thriving crops - corridors of tall green corn, accented here and there with acres of bushy soy greens, broken only by rolling pastures edged with the continuing green of stands of walnut, cottonwood and maple forest cloaked in the humid haze of silent summer heat. Now, nearly overnight, all that is gone; the acres of maturing green life, are golden and dry with a new persona and sound - a different kind of wind is with us now - not a gentle summer breeze, this is a sign of seasonal change. It dries the crops and teaches them to sing a new song.

The Autumnal Equinox and the Harvest Moon

2010-09-22T15:49:00.000-07:00

The thunderstorms began during the night, bringing much needed rain to this part of the state ... waking to the sound or raindrops hitting the roof I also remember that the Equinox is this evening - in this part of the Northern Hemisphere it comes at 11:03pm, or some time very close to that, and brings with it a full Harvest Moon. The day has been appropriately hazy and misty, with some patches of blue sky and I'm hoping to be able to have a small fire outside in the fire pot, and to also be able to observe the moon as it sails across the sky, in the company of Jupiter ....

Autumn days, golden weather and misty, foggy evenings bring reminders that it is the Season of the Witch. It is a mystic season of elegant mysteries, of the fullness of Harvest, the safety of gathering darkness and the growing hush of a country side waiting for the opening of the Book of Secrets and the wisdom which will be revealed.

"Lord, it is time. The summer was very big. Lay thy shadow on the sundials, and on the meadows let the winds go loose. Command the last fruits that they shall be full; give them another two more southerly days, press them on to fulfillment and drive the last sweetness into the heavenly wine."
- Rainer Maria Rilke

September 2010 Skies - Thank You Sky Views!

2010-09-09T09:17:00.000-07:00

Jupiter and its moons

"The Start of Fall in the Northern Hemisphere"

Jupiter, the solar system's largest planet, will dominate the sky nearly all night during September, presenting its best appearance in almost 50 years. Glowing low in the east as evening twiligh tfades, Jupiter will climb high in the south before midnight and set in the west around the time morning twilight begins. With no bright stars nearby,the planet will be easy to spot. Jupiter's four brightest moons were discovered by Galileo, and they can usually be seen with binoculars. All four of these moons will be grouped to the east of Jupiter before the morning sky brightens on Sept. 24. Venus and Mars will form a tight trio with the bright white star Spica lowin the west-southwest at the beginning of the month. Brilliant white Venus on the left (south) will be 300 times brighter than pale orange Mars onthe right, which will be hard to see without binoculars in the bright glowof twilight. The two planets will remain close all month as Spica gradually moves away from them toward the right (west). As the evening sky darkens early in the month, Saturn will be visible with binoculars very low in the west, far to the right of Venus. By mid-monthSaturn will be too close to the sun to be seen, and it will pass throughconjunction with the sun on Sept. 30. In the last two weeks of the month, Mercury will become visible very lowin the east-northeast about a half hour before sunrise. Look for the white pinpoint of light glimmering through the morning twilight just below the bright white star Regulus in the constellation Leo the Lion. This will be Mercury's best morning appearance of the year for observers atmid-northern latitudes.

International Space Station The International Space Station can be seen from time to time as itcrosses the sky, if you know when and where to look. Information on how to locate it is provided at http://spaceflight.nasa.gov/realdata/sightings/quickstart/index.html.

Aurora On a clear September night, you may be lucky enough to see an aurora (sometimes called "northern lights"). These silent ribbons and curtains of light can appear whenever the sun is active, but they are especially likely from August to October. Eruptions from the sun's surface hurlenormous amounts of charged particles into space, and when some of these solar particles head in our direction, they cause auroral activity. You can watch for auroras when they are most likely to happen by checkingWeb sites such as http://www.spaceweather.com and http://www.sec.noaa.gov/. Sightings of auroras are reported at
http://www.spacew.com/www/aurora.html.

Equinox The sun will reach the September equinox on Sept. 22 at 11:09 p.m. EDT(Sept.23 at 3:09 Universal Time) marking the start of fall in the NorthernHemisphere and spring in the Southern Hemisphere. For the next six monthsin the Northern Hemisphere, the nights will be longer than the days.Moon phasesThe moon will be at third quarter on Sept. 1, new on Sept. 8, at firstquarter on Sept. 15 and full (the Harvest Moon) on Sept. 23.-------

From "Sky Views" by Jay Respler
http://mars.superlink.net/~jrespler/skyviews.html

2010-09-06T11:25:00.000-07:00

"September Morning Still Can Make Me Feel That Way"

The name "September" is a derivative of a Latin word which means "seven," and September was indeed the seventh month of the Roman calender. The name "September" gradually traveled through Europe following the path of Roman conquest until it arrived in England and replaced the days of the English calender which had been known as "the month of harvest." In the Northern hemisphere, the beginning of the meteorological autumn is the first day of September.

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness; Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun; Conspiring with him how to load and bless; With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;; To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,; And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core
....John Keats

Hot August Nights With Brother Love

2010-08-17T16:12:00.000-07:00

Hot August night and the leaves hanging down

and the grass on the ground smellin' sweet
Move up the road to the outside of town
and the sound of that good gospel beat
Sits a ragged tent where there ain't no trees
And that gospel group tellin' you and me
It's Love Brother Love say Brother Love's traveling salvation show
Pack up the babies and grab the old ladies and everyone goes
'Cause everyone knows Brother Love's show

"Brother Love's Traveling Salvation Show"
Neil Diamond

The Long Hot Summer - Lammas

2010-08-01T16:56:00.000-07:00

August First is the day which falls half-way between Midsummer and the Autumn Equinox, and is referred to as a "cross-quarter" day, by those who describe the calendar as the Wheel of the Year. A Google search yields the "history" of Lammas, Lamas, or "First Harvest" complete with photos of sparse handfuls of two or three green bean pods, a few meager carrots and green onions held proudly in amateur gardener hands.
But, for those of us who live in the still rural, agricultural areas of the midwestern United States, there is no doubt that August, even a week into the month, is the height of Summer ... those "lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer." Hot, lush, full-bodied, pungent, juicy, close, stuffy, damp, stormy, noisy, delicious days, overdone, steamy and suspended in time, waiting-with-bated- breath-days of a season which is dying but doesn't yet know it. Decades ago, centuries ago, (and even today in countries in the southern hemisphere), people tuned into the rhythm of the planet and just slowed down with the season as the temperatures soared to finally signal the crops that it was time to stop growing and begin the ripening, finishing off process. Even today in the Indiana countryside, urbanized as it is, there are thousands of plants which are beginning the process of ripening and displaying the fruits, berries, grains and blossoms which have been the focus of maturation since the end of planting season. Not all the produce of the growing season has been planted by the hand of man, nor do a great many of the so-called "hobby farmers" seem to appreciate the wild and independent vigor of the natural flora as it grows in the still untamed country-side. The small farm owners mow without ceasing. They mow roadside ditches, woodland carpets and even pasture is trimmed back ... sort of reminds me of the song Burl Ives used to sing about little rows of "ticky tacky" houses. Listen closely and even over the incessant drone of power mowers, and mini-John Deeres, one can hear the whispered voice of the natural inhabitants sighing, "Be careful! We'll take you back! No one will ever know you were here if you stop mowing!

Like Nature, August is not to be denied, and there is still something, deep in the soul of those
of a certain age, which will not be denied either. It is time to just slow down and take a deep breath, pack a lunch, perhaps grab a cold beer and go sit on the bank of a creek or slow moving river, or even push a row-boat into a lake and drop a line in the water. It is a hot, sweaty, sticky uncomfortable month - the only sane path to survival lies in giving in to the need to move as little as possible and not elevate the body's temperature past exhaustion. Folks these days have no common sense about survival in this kind of weather ... after all, we do have air conditioning don't we? Get those kids back into the classroom earlier every year, bundle those boys up in shoulder pads and keep them running football plays in 90+ heat, and budget expensive drinks to keep them hydrated. Above all, don't lose a minute, a day or a week that can be devoted to productivity and profit ... gotta justify that bottom line thing.

No, Summer is not what it used to be - despite the fact that neo-Pagans contrive to commemorate Lammas harvest with patio-pot grown vegetables. I truly don't mean to ridicule the efforts of modern day Pagans, or Greenies to reach back to the earth or try to stir some memory of the time when the planet did sustain us with harvests of bounty. But why is it, for Goddess sake, that someone always has to write a how-to-do-it book, blog or PDF pamphlet and give a serious talk to a gathering of serious, dedicated, focused, and too often, self-righteous, folk who are THE ONES who care about saving the planet.

A few days ago, driving down a country road, I slowed down as I approached a low bridge and came to a stop to allow two young girls to cross the road in front of me. They were Amish children, girls in their immaculate dresses, bonnets and aprons, one barefoot, and the other in brand new shoes three sizes too big. They were sharing the handles of a large bushel basket full of sweet corn fresh from the field where they'd just picked it. I've seldom seen such natural smiles ... fresh faces, a bit flushed from the exertion of carrying the basket and their climb, but also filled with the delight of being alive, and doing something useful and just a bit adventurous. A real harvest chore, headed for the family's evening dinner.

I remember being that age long ago, and walking barefoot down dusty country roads, watching the powdery stuff puff between my toes. Sitting in my grandmother's kitchen garden, hot sun beating down on my back, picking ripe tomatoes to eat right there, seasoned with salt from a stolen shaker. Going fishing or swimming in the "old swimming hole," or just slipping off to the cool depths of a hay barn, gazing out the big door, and day-dreaming about the future. August is a wanton mistress of a month, she sings the siren's song to those who want to steal away and be lazy - I wonder if that song is the same faint melody the hobby gardeners struggle to hear today as they celebrate their symbolic "First Harvest."

Summertime and the livin' is easy
Fish are jumpin' and the cotton is HIGH
Oh your Daddy's rich and your ma is good lookin'
So hush little baby, don't you cry

Another Spring Arrival

2010-04-13T13:22:00.001-07:00

Apparently, all young things are curious about the world around them. This young Red-tailed Hawk swooped down over our van and flew ahead of us for several hundred feet before landing in a tree to have an even better look at us. He was just too beautiful not to stop and admire!

New Citizen of the World

2010-03-29T14:14:00.000-07:00

"First Steps"

Look very closely at the above picture and you'll spot the still bloody umbilical cord which recently attached this baby to the very attentive momma. This little new citizen was born on a very drizzly, rainy Sunday, March 28 between 11:30am and 12 o'clock noon. Within seconds of standing up, he nursed a little from a very full udder, and then his mother began to walk with him - I held my breath watching - the new born was keeping up very nicely, but the legs had a life of their own and were going in every direction before hitting the ground in a manner which promoted forward movement. Mom was very focused on moving him toward a "tramp shed" to get in out of the rain.

This mother is blessed with her own sense of direction, survival instinct and intuitive knowing what to do to care for that newborn and keep him alive and thriving, and she acts on her "knowing" without hesitation or thinking about alternatives. I think we've all got that instinct, that knowing --- we just need to trust more in our built in sense of direction and let go of waiting for others to tell us what is best.

Snow Drops At The Equinox

2010-03-19T14:10:00.001-07:00

This year, in Indiana, our Snow Drops were almost three weeks late in blooming because we had so much snow on the ground for so long. I can always count on Snow Drops for Valentine's Day, but these popped their heads up through the melting snow on March 4th! That works out for me, because they will be here for the Vernal Equinox this coming Sunday, March 21.

Have you seen Jack-In-The-Green?
With his long tail hanging down
He quietly sits under every tree
in the folds of his velvet gown.
He drinks from the empty acorn cup
the dew that dawn sweetly bestows
And taps his cane upon the ground
Signals the Snowdrops it's time to grow.

...... Jethro Tull

And, along with the Snowdrops, we have a special visitor from Denmark who wants his "momma" Mette to know that he is having a wonderful time!

"Hello! I'm really here!"

"And I have my own Muffler for Chilly Days!"

's time to grow.

In Like A Lion .......

2010-03-06T12:23:00.000-08:00

And *very* frustrated right now ... here we are six days into March, the sun is shining, the sky is clear blue and my Snow Drops are blooming ... Thursday was the first day up for them, and they had poked their head and hands through soggy snow - and I had no camera to take the "classic" snow drop picture. I still have no camera .... I'm finding lots of other lovely things that I've not seen for a long, long time, but I still haven't found my camera.

A Polar Bear Is Born In Copenhagen!!!

2010-02-23T12:14:00.000-08:00

En isbjørn fødes

Her er nogle billeder af en isbjørn, jeg lavede til en kær ven ;O)
("Here are some pictures of a polar bear, I made a dear friend; O")

...og så begyndes der...
("...and so begings...")

Vær ikke bange!
("Don't be afraid!")

Av, av, av!
("Ow, Ow, Ow!)

Nu er jeg her!
("Now I'm Here!)

Above are pictures and text by my friend Mette' in Copenhagen who has felted this most
precious Playful Baby Polar Bear as a part of her wonderful felts collections at http://bymette.blogspot.com/. This special bear was made just for me, and arrived from
snow covered Denmark to snow covered Indiana accompanied by a wonderful red Christmas
stocking. Mette's things are all wonderful, with such beautiful faces and expressions and so
much love and imagination go into each one ... But a warning! If you browse here, you will
want one of everything!

More about this little bear's arrival in Indiana very soon!

Carnaval, Mardi Gras & Winter Olympics .....

2010-02-16T20:38:00.000-08:00

Is an ancient celebration - some say it finds its origins in the pre-Christian celebrations of the Greek Dionysus ceremonies, and Roman Saturnalia parties.

Carnavale continued throughout the ages, in all parts of the world .... in Medieval times in Europe

From the days of the Lord of Misrule, to the rowdy celebrations of the "common folk,"

to the extravaganzas of costumed masquerade balls

Carnaval is celebrated around the world, for differening periods of time - often from the end of harvest, through Christmas, Yule, New Years and up until the beginning of Lent. In some parts of the world, Carnaval continues well into March, past the beginning of Lent.

For the 2006 Winter Olympics celebration, the City of Turino, Italy moved its famous celebration of Carnaval into the opening and closing ceremonies of the games!

With the growth of Christianity, the ongoing tensions between the pagan symbolism and disorder of Canaval celebrations have ebbed and flowed ... represented by the artist Peter
Bruegel in his 16th century painting, The Battle Between Carnaval and Lent:

In a strange sort of compromise, the Winter Interlude of Carnaval ends as Spring and the time to return to the regular structure of agricultural life presses in on the revelers. The Church declaring a period of Penitance prior to the celebration of the Resurection Of Christ on Easter Sunday, instituted the season of Lent - a period of approximately 40 days of preparation for the observance of the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus. Mardi Gras, or Fat Tuesday is the last day of carnaval before Ash Wednesday the beginning of Lent.

New Orleans is perhaps the quinessential Mardi Gras City, and has been experiencing its own form of resurrection following the tragedy of Hurricane Katrina ....

Mardi Gras ends promptly at the stroke of midnight on Fat Tuesday ....

Mardi Gras Sunset

But to New Orleans, we will forever say ....

Eternal Blessings to you, NOLA!

Short Days and Winter Chill

2010-02-11T20:19:00.000-08:00

A scant week or so ago, I shared childhood lore about the "Robin Snow," having been sorely disappointed by the performance of our Indiana beaver weather forecasting crew. The beavers insisted we'd have more snow, and, in spite of resort to the Robins, we've received over a foot of additional snow in just a few days, and very cold, freezing temps! Enough to turn my thoughts from spring to fantasies of a wonderful winter cocoon or den to burrow in until the end of the cold, snowy season.

At this point in the winter process, good food, good music, good books and
good company are essential to sanity. A nice media center for enjoying a collection of old, classic movies is good as well, and the internet can provide a nice avenue for exploring thoughts and ideas with distant friends. Of course, a good blend of tea is the proper accessory for any of the above activities, and a steamy, rich cup of hot chocolate is in order for those who venture out to actually be in the snow!

In a slower less complicated past, "winter sports" were mainly a family or children's activity, with very little need for expensive equipment or special arenas for play!

The Ladies Competed in Toboggan Races!

And the Gentlemen Invented a Motorized Toboggan - Almost a Proto-type Snow Mobile!

And in a very short time, the idea of winter sports became romanticized

And in no time at all, the idea of luxuriousWinter Vacations in Europe became very chic, and very fashionable!

And in just a little time more, the gentlemen raised recreation to the level of keen competition!

Notice the expression of sheer delight on this skier's face!

"Semaine Internationale des Sports d'Hiver
Mont Blanc, Chamonix, Haute-Savoie, France"

The First Winter Olympics, January 25 - February 5, 1924

Notice the spectators at the bottom of the picture and also that the jumper is wearing a soft, billed cap for head gear!

Olympic Barrel Jumping - Chamonix

Sonja Henie - Olympic Champion 1928, 1932, 1936

Norwegian born Sonja Henie, appeared in the First Winter Olympics in Chamonix when she was just 11 years old. She finished last that year, but returned in 1928 to win the Gold Medal, a feat which she repeated in 1932 and 1934. In her career, she won more European, International and Olympic titles than any other female figure skater. After winning the 1936 World Championships she relinquished her amateur status and became a professional skater in ice shows and motion pictures. She was also one of the highest paid actresses in Hollywood. Her traveling ice show performances, film career, paid endorsements and advertisements made her one of the wealthiest women in the world for her era; it is safe to say that she was one of the first of many Olympic athletes to become famous and wealthy because of her popularity as a world class athlete

The Winter Olympic Games continued to be held every four years, with the exception of the period of WWII. The games were suspended in 1940, and did not resume until 1948. Many
people find the Winter Games to be much more exciting and entertaining than the Summer Games ... Downhill skiing, figure skating, ice dancing, and speed skating are entertaining
and fast paced. In 1988, the Jamaican Bobsled Team caught the fancy of the public due to the unlikely choice of sports for a team from the Caribbean Islands, and snow boarding and free style skiing events are new crowd favorites due to the speed, thrills and unconventional nature of the competitions!

Further Thoughts on the Robin Snow

2010-02-08T12:29:00.000-08:00

So much for "folklore." Since I wrote the post last Wednesday about the lore of the "Robin Snow," we, here in Indiana have had 8-10" of snow, and temps have drifted below the 0'F
mark. As if to add insult to injury, the weatherman is predicting another 6-8" of the white stuff beginning this evening into Tuesday morning.

I'm not giving up hope quite yet ... if the snow on the ground when the Robin sang his greeting
to me through the window was already there, this will be the second snow since his return.
I looked at my blog entry from last year at this time, and we had deep, drifted snow and such
cold temps that the drifts had frozen until they looked like glistening meringue.

The saddest irony of all is that Vancouver, the site of the Winter Olympics which begin this
Friday has temps in the 50s and no snow at all. I love the Winter Olympics and especially
the opening ceremonies ... last year in Turin the ceremonies were wonderful, and the 1994
games in Lillehammer, Norway remain a special favorite ... I'm really hoping that somehow,
in some special way, the Snow Queen will bless Vancouver with an abundance of snow for
their games as well.

In the meantime, those of us here in Indiana who have the opportunity are enjoying the luxury of "hunkering down."

Snow Queen - Dulac

Snow Queen - Rie Cramer

Village - Luve

The Robin Snow - February 2, 2010

2010-02-03T13:02:00.000-08:00

We've celebrated "Groundhog Day," Imbolc and Candlemas in the past few days - all dates which our ancient ancestors regarded in one way or another as the end of winter and the beginning of spring … I like the folklore of Imbolc which describes the first of February as the day of "Middle Earth," the time when seeds deep in the heart of the earth begin to stir and germinate; it is the very first harbinger of Spring … when the Goddess Brigid (who's feast is held on Imbolc) urges Winter to wake from his long dark sleep and enjoy the first sweet breezes of Spring.

I was lamenting the fact this morning that I had no bonfire this year, not even a candle to light. I did find a very old box of candles in the antique store where I play shop keeper on the weekends, and the printed label indicated they were sanctified for the "Day of Purification," which is the Christian Candlemas. I didn't buy them, and this morning I was wishing that I had, imagining them burning softly, held by a pair of new candle holders from the Yule. As I mused on the candles, I was urged back to reality by the cheerful singing of a Robin, just outside my window. I watched him for just a moment, enjoying the song he offered up from his snow covered perch.
In my childhood, my grandmother always said that the snow that fell after the first Robin's song meant that two more snows would fall before spring. She called it the "Robin Snow." A sure sign of spring, and my first Robin appearing outside my window at the time of Imbolc seems to reinforce that bit of weather folklore. I'm not sure whether this Robin sang before the snowfall which has left the current covering on the ground, but I'm going to pretend that he was here before the snow.

This Mother Goose nursery rhyme will help me remember to keep feeders full for the birds until the last frosty snow is well past.

The north wind doth blow,
And we shall have snow,
And what will poor robin do then,
Poor thing ?

He'll sit in a barn,
And keep himself warm,
And hide his head under his wing,
Poor thing!

From "The Real Mother Goose"

My Danish friend, who writes my favorite blog (A Polar Bear's Tale) shared this picture of tiny Dormice (http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-484170/Dozing-dormice-set-alarm-spring.html) this morning, and I'm going to borrow it to share the second half of the Mother Goose rhyme about the "snow robin.'

The North Wind doth blow and we shall have snow,
And what will the dormouse do then? Poor thing!
Roll'd up like a ball, in his nest snug & small,
He'll sleep till warm weather comes in. Poor thing!

The American Robin (Turdus migratorius) is a member of the thrush family, and is common in most regions of the United States during the summer months. Sometimes called the North American Robin, he is not the same species as the European Robin (Erithacus rubecula) which is much smaller and thought to be a member of the Flycatcher family.

North American Robin

European Robin

The European Robin is often called "The Christmas Robin" in the UK because so many of the colorful little birds migrate to the British Isles for the winter months. He is the subject of nursery rhymes and many myths, including a legend which explains that he got his red breast from a drop of Christ's blood which fell on him as he removed a thorn from Jesus' brow.

The Epiphany, Festival of the Three Kings & Carnaval

2010-01-06T13:38:00.000-08:00

Today is the Epiphany or the Festival of the Three Kings. The day on which the Western Church and most Protestant Churches traditionally celebrate the arrival of the "Kings from the East" in Bethlehem to honor the new born Baby Jesus.

"Adoration of the Magi" Hieronymus Bosch

By the middle ages, veneration of the Wise Men had become popular throughout Europe and Epiphany was known as the the Feast the of the Three Kings … all of which coincided with Twelfth Night, and the end of the ancient season of Yuletide. This pagan holdover was a time of "misrule," and in many cultures the custom of wearing costumes and hiding one's identity with a mask became popular. Shakespeare's play Twelfth Night, employs the idea of things not being what they seem, or should be.

Twelfth Night festival was celebrated with the preparation of a "Kings Cake," and was also regarded as the beginning of the Carnival season. The custom of masquerade and costuming evolved into the custom of elaborate entertainments known as "masques," and later expanded into the extravagant social events which featured elegant balls and banquets for the very rich, and street celebrations and festivals for the lower social classes.

It is symbolic of the tension between the pagan past and the Christian West that the season of rowdy Carnaval begins on the Feast of Epiphany and ends with the beginning of Ash Wednesday and preparations for the Christian observance of Lent. Twelfth Night is still regarded as the initiation of Carnival Season in much of the world, and this evening, television news station WDSU in New Orleans reported on the first parade of the Mardi Gras season to "roll through the streets of the city!"

"Let The Good Times Roll!"

TWELVETIDE - Following Yonder Star

2010-01-02T13:19:00.000-08:00

"Old Christmas is past, twelve tide is the last

And we bid you adieu, great joy to the new"

The "Twelve Days of Christmas" are counted in different ways depending on the cultural traditions of the country in which the Yuletide season is celebrated. Celtic custom, counts sunset as the beginning of a new day and according to this method the Twelve Days of Christmas (Twelve Tide) are usually counted from the evening of December 25 until the morning of January 6th which is the Twelfth Day. Following this method of counting the days beginning with sundown, the evening of January 5 is Twelfth Night. In some church traditions, only the full days are counted so that January 5th is the Eleventh Day of Christmas, January 6th is Twelfth Day and the evening of January 6 is counted as Twelfth Night. In ancient cultures and in current church traditions, Christmas, or Yuletide is celebrated as a season rather than just a single day; in some areas of Europe, Yule celebrations begin in November and continue well into February! January 6th is celebrated as the Festival of the Three Kings, or Epiphany and is traditionally regarded as the day on which the "Kings from the East" arrived in Bethlehem to greet the newly born Baby Jesus. We know very little about the Kings - Mathew says only that they were "Kings from the East." Current scholars and historians have concluded that they were "wise men," or Magi - trained in many kinds of knowledge, including astronomy/astrology and no doubt lived and worked in Persia (present day Iran).

"We have seen his star in the East"

The account in the Gospel of Mathew does not say what amount of time passed between the sighting by the Magi of the Star of Bethlehem and their arrival to honor the newborn King, but it is clear that the distances involved presented an undertaking of great magnitude and it is assumed that the Magi traveled by caravan in order to reach their destination safely and as quickly as possible.

"and, lo, the star, which they saw in the east, went before them,
til it came and stood over where the young child was"

In the centuries since the gospel of Mathew was first set down and carried into Europe by the missionaries of the Christian church, artists in many countries have seen the "wise men" in many different ways and the interpretation of the story of the Wise Men has expanded as well - although Mathew does not tell us how many Magi traveled to Judea, tradition has set the number at three, probably a reflection of the three kinds of gifts presented to the Baby Jesus - "gold, Frankencense, and Myrrh." Costumes, physical characteristics and style of dress have all changed to reflect the vision and cultural orientation of the artist who painted them; they've traveled by camel, by horse and on elephants, but it matters not whether we see them on camels in the desert, horses in the country side of Renaissance Italy or the exquisitely crafted figures of a Neapolitan creche scene, the Wise Men are instantly recognized as an exotic and mysterious part of the Christmas story.

Byzantine Mosaic

"medieval Kings"

"Procession of the Kings" & Details - Benozzo Gozzili

"Procession of the Magi" - 18th Century Neapolitan Baroque Creche
Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City
Gift of Mrs. Loretta Hines Howard

"Field and Fountain,
Moor and Mountain,
Following Yonder Star."

HAPPY NEW YEAR! January 1, 2010

2010-01-01T08:28:00.000-08:00

Chiostri

SNOW DAYS - WINTER TIME

in my own yard - "boyz from the hood"

Tibetian Prayer Flags at the Top of The World

Winter Fantasy from Another Time

"Speed"

The Myth and Magic of Santa Claus

2009-12-30T17:02:00.000-08:00

Imagine please, that we can hold up a mental image of that "right jolly old elf," and peel away the layers of commercialism and elaborately composed scenarios of daily life attributed to the modern characterization of Santa Claus and travel back in our time machine to the origins of the Elf himself. Once again we must look for the origin of our legendary symbol of Christmas Tide in the forests of northern Europe. It was in that wild and unconquerable region of the primal forest that the Teutonic peoples worshipped a wild Norse God who's name was Woden. (We can thank him for the name of our midweek day, "Wednesday.") Woden eventually became Odin and was revered as a god of magic, occult knowledge, poetry and war. He had the Shamanic ability to shape shift and could travel in other worlds. Eventually, he was depicted as an aged man, of great stature with flowing white hair and beard. Dressed in a cloak, he traveled across the skies on a magical white horse. At the Solstice, Odin lead his followers across the skies in a wild and fierce hunt … some later accounts say that German children set their shoes out on the night of Odin's hunt, filled with oats and hay for the horses which Odin and his followers rode.

Georg von Rosen

Oden's Hunt

Early in the Christian era, Nicholas, Bishop of Myra (part of modern day Turkey), became known as a miracle worker, and as a secret gift giver. Nicholas' reputation grew among the early Christian community and he is venerated as a special protector of children, who was believed to leave gold coins in the shoes of children left "out" in his honor. St. Nicholas was canonized as a saint, nearly by popular acclaim, long before the schism between the Western and Eastern branches of the Catholic tradition. His life is commemorated throughout Europe and much of the world on the date of his death, December 6. In the centuries following his death, it became the custom for children to receive small gifts on St. Nicholas Day. In Dutch and Flemish countries, St. Nicholas is known as "Sinterklaas," and is often pictured riding a beautiful white horse.

For many centuries, the spirits of Odin, St. Nicholas, Sinterklaas and finally Sante Clas existed in many guises and many forms. In the mysterious depth of the forests of the north, fir trees, holly and mistletoe sent forth their spells and enchantments, and Odin added elves, goats and a new bevy of magical, mostly benevolent supernatural beings whose dwelling places were generally hidden from the knowledge of human beings. By the 19th Century, even Odin had made a gentle transition of image and was appearing as an ever evolving version of the secret gift bringer of Wintertide.

Arthur Rackham

In-between Odin and St. Nicholas, there exists a vast assortment of magical, mystical beings who care for an entire menagerie of animals, some of which are enchanted, and some of which are real, flesh and blood beings … There were goats, and gnomes and elves … there were reindeer or caribou, who sometimes flew (I'm so sorry, it must be the influence of the poetc side of Odin), and various forms of transportation and an entire host of wonderful stories and legends to describe them. We can say that the Scandinavian concept of Santa riding a goat is probably a hold over from the stores of the Norse God Thor and his goat drawn chariot. In this engraving, the Julebukk (Yule Goat) is ridden by a very Odin-like figure who is wearing a wreath, and looking very much like the Holly King!

In the countries of Scandinavia, small gnomes or elf-like creatures called nisse live in the forest and country side year round; some of them specialize in caring very tenderly for farm and forest animals, and others live more closely with humans, being sometimes helpful and sometimes not.
Some of the gnomes bring presents to children on Christmas Eve, and look for a bowl of porridge in return!

In America, in the early 1800s, an illustration appeared with a "Dutch" version of "Sante Claus,"

and, as the century progressed, Santa Claus became more and more a "right jolly old elf,"

with the help of Clemete Clarke Moore and "A Vistit From St. Nicholas.

Thomas Nast

Arthur Rackham

Santa Claus, St. Nicholas and Kris Kringle are all names born in the 19th Century to describe a sometimes benevolent super-natural being who was widely known to those who lived in what is now Europe, Russia and parts of the Mediterranian region. In the course of time, he assumed the attributes of a wild, shamanic God of the northern regions and shared the northern forests with many kinds of elves, fairies and gnomes who were also sometimes benevolent and sometimes not. His legend was so prevalent, his identity and benevolence so famous that his reputation blended eventually with that of an early Christian Bishop who became St. Nicholas of Myra. We cannot know how long the belief in beings other than "human" has persisted among people, but we do know that writers and thinkers who have studied the nature of reality and the ways in which human beings have learned to understand it, do accept that in the beginning of human consciousness we perceived ourselves as being "in nature and a part of it." We could see and understand elements of our environment which are no long available to our sense of perception. It is nearly certain that our strongly held convictions about the existence of supernatural beings springs from this lost ability to see all of nature. It is quite likely a kind of "race memory" of a pantheon of gods described since the beginning of language, gives rise to many truths and the many ways of telling about the inhabitants of this planet we're living on. At the end of 2009, with Christmas just past, I must think back to Christmas of 2008, and the bright, sparkling Christmas morning which gave me the inspiration to write the first essay for this blog. The flight of thousands of Canada Geese, rolling over the southern horizon on their way north so caught my heart and my imagination that I was moved to give deeper thought to the meaning of life on the planet as we know it. I'm at a transitional age in both my life and the history of this country - things familiar to me in my childhood, and which had been commonplace to my grandparents are gone now … the land which supported so many, so well, and for so long is disappearing and an entire way of life is gone … not to be reclaimed I fear. And it is not necessarily for the better. "Progress" has not always meant improvement in the day to day lives of those who inhabit the earth, and incredible as it seems, there are those who believe that only the future holds promise or is worth giving thought or time to. … The flight of the Christmas Geese has lead me on a path of rediscovery this past year … and the adventure included the privilege of meeting a family of Canadas and watching as they raised their small brood. So, it was surely not an accident when, as I was pondering the origins and existence of Santa Claus, I found this post card …. it is most surely a message from the aether, Santa Claus and the geese!

"There are those who believe that Santa Claus is real.
But he isn't.
He's Magick!

CHRISTMASTIDE

2009-12-26T11:32:00.000-08:00

"For centuries men have kept an appointment with Christmas. Christmas means fellowship, feasting, giving and receiving, a time of good cheer, home." ~W.J. Ronald Tucker

ChristmasTide, MidWinter, Solstice, Yuletide, Twelve Tide - all the names given to various winter feasts, at different times in history. The early Celts believed that winter began with Samhain, or the end of summer. Samhain was a harvest feast but it is likely that winterfests began to mingle with the harvest festivals as the days passed and it became clear that daylight was growing shorter and the wind colder. The perception was that the nature of time itself changed when summer passed. Not only was "time" not behaving properly it was also believed that the veil or space between the worlds was much thinner beginning with the end of summer and there were great possibilities for magic to be worked. But possibilities for misfortune to befall were also much greater due to the ease with which beings moved from time to time and world to world to world. Nearly all cultures believed in small beings, such as elves, fairies, trolls and gnomes, who lived underground, underneath the tree roots or in the deep dark woods of Europe.

In the vast dark forests of the north, where the sharp cold winds came early,the pre-christian Germanic tribes observed the season of Yule leading up to Solstice and Yuletide probably continued well past the time we now consider "Christamas Day."As the hours of darkness increased, the need for fires increased as well, and the abundant bounty of forest firs, holly and mistletoe were brought inside to drape the halls as well, in the belief that their "evergreen" properties of eternal life would encourage the return of the sun to its proper place in the skies.
Medieval Winter celebrations began in the early part of the season, and soon grew to include Twelve Tide, or the Twelve Days of Christmas, up through the time time of Epiphany, or the coming of the Magi … the eastern Calendar moved the Feast of Christmas to the 7 of January, and the season was extended again. In many areas of Europe, Christmas markets sprang up with the blessing of the Church and Carnaval lent its African and Asian traditions and games to the atmosphere of festival and celebration. The "Lord of Misrule" added his antics to the sense that the natural order of things was suspended through out the winter festive season … in the later yearsoif the 19th century puppet shows and mummers parades became popular as well … Wassailing and Caroling became a part of the Yuletide festivies. It was the custom of the "Lord of the Manor" to invite all his serfs and their families into the great hall for feasting, merry-making, and one would imagine, just to stay warm.

"This is Yuletide! Bring the holly boughs, Deck the old mansion with its berries red; Bring in the mistletoe, that lover's vows Be sweetly sealed the while it hangs o'erhead. Pile on the logs, fresh gathered from the wood, And let the firelight dance upon the walls, The while we tell the stories of the good, The brave, the noble, that the past recalls."

The Distant Music of The Hounds

2009-12-24T09:34:00.000-08:00

Last weekend, in a little antique shop in Southern Indiana, a customer came to the counter, a treasure in hand to be purchased and wrapped. I took the book from her, and discovered a full edition of Kipling's "Just So Stories." The volume had an illustration of the little elephant child trying to pull his nose away from the crocodile. The picture was one of those emotional triggers with the power to carry a person off to another place and time; in my case, the time machine took me back to a day of gardening I shared with my father. As we pulled new baby carrots from the soft, rich soil of the garden (and I kept breaking the tops off the carrots without taking them from the ground), my father told me the story of how the little elephant got his long trunk.

"In the high and far off times, The Elephant, O Best Beloved, had no trunk."

I was surprised only by the emotional reaction caused by the picture, not the memory itself. Both my parents read to me constantly - my mother introduced me to Tom Sawyer, a chapter a time at bedtime, but my father read any and everything to me that interested him. One of the "stories" that stood out in my mind, but whose title I'd lost, was a piece about "the music of the hounds" which he'd read to me around Christmas time. It was, it turns out, a "comment" first published in The New Yorker on Christmas Eve, 1949.

To set the piece in perspective, in 1949, WWII was a scant four and a half years in the past, and many Americans from the ranks of politicians, businessmen, intellectuals and just plain family folk were debating, speculating on, and trying to plan the future of a newly born world power, the United States of America. Europeans as well were concentrating on plotting the future course of civilization, but nowhere was the sense of immanent possibility so rich and alive as it was in the USA.

My father read this piece to me one evening, as we sat in front of a blazing fireplace - there was no television in those days, so mothers and fathers did actually read to their children and talked about what thoughts they had on the content of the readings. My father liked this piece I believe because his roots were European and he thought a great deal about making the future a good place to live, and I liked the piece because I'd actually been hunting with hounds and the sound of their baying was a beautiful mystic thing which sent shivers down my spine. I'd also heard the short story by Issac Asimov about a robot named "Robbie" who was designed as a nannie and the evolving relationship between him and his "child." I made the connections to this story on two levels because of the things my father had already shared with me, so when my Kipling-tickled- memory found the proper "key words" the article was not difficult to find.

It is now 60 years since E. B. White's "comment" appeared in the December 24, 1949 issue of The New Yorker, but it is still interesting reading - a commentary on how far we have, or have not come, and on the ever-so-much-more commercialized treatment of Christmas and the Yultide Season. I'm not aware if Mr. White is still living, but I can only imagine what his reaction to "Christmas shopping as a patriotic act" statements which issued forth from the horror of 9/11.
Mr. White is correct, our "outward bound tracks" only lead back to Man himself.

Let me share the story with you, now.

The Distant Music of the Hounds
E. B. White

"To perceive Christmas through its wrapping becomes more difficult with every year. There was a little device we noticed in one of the sporting-goods stores—a trumpet that hunters hold to their ears so that they can hear the distant music of the hounds. Something of the sort is needed now to hear the incredibly distant sound of Christmas in these times, through the dark, material woods that surround it. “Silent Night,” canned and distributed in thundering repetition in the department stores, has become one of the greatest of all noisemakers, almost like the rattles and whistles of Election Night. We rode down on an escalator the other morning through the silent-nighting of the loudspeakers, and the man just in front of us was singing, 'I’m gonna wash this store right outta my hair, I’m gonna wash this store...'

The miracle of Christmas is that, like the distant and very musical voice of the hound, it penetrates finally and becomes heard in the heart—over so many years, through so many cheap curtain-raisers. It is not destroyed even by all the arts and craftiness of the destroyers, having an essential simplicity that is everlasting and triumphant, at the end of confusion. We once went out at night with coonhunters and we were aware that it was not so much the promise of the kill that took the men away from their warm homes and sent them through the cold shadowy woods, it was something more human, more mystical—something even simpler. It was the night, and the excitement of the note of the hound, first heard, then not heard. It was the natural world, seen at its best and most haunting, unlit except by stars, impenetrable except to the knowing and the sympathetic.

Christmas in 1949 must compete as never before with the dazzling complexity of man, whose tangential desires and ingenuities have created a world that gives any simple thing the look of obsolescence—as though there were something inherently foolish in what is simple, or natural. The human brain is about to turn certain functions over to an efficient substitute, and we hear of a robot that is now capable of handling the tedious details of psychoanalysis, so that the patient no longer need confide in a living doctor but can take his problems to a machine, which sifts everything and whose “brain” has selective power and the power of imagination. One thing leads to another. The machine that is imaginative will, we don’t doubt, be heir to the ills of the imagination; one can already predict that the machine itself may become sick emotionally, from strain and tension, and be compelled at last to consult a medical man, whether of flesh or of steel. We have tended to assume that the machine and the human brain are in conflict. Now the fear is that they are indistinguishable. Man not only is notably busy himself but insists that the other animals follow his example. A new bee has been bred artificially, busier than the old bee.

So this day and this century proceed toward the absolutes of convenience, of complexity, and of speed, only occasionally holding up the little trumpet (as at Christmastime) to be reminded of the simplicities, and to hear the distant music of the hound. Man’s inventions, directed always onward and upward, have an odd way of leading back to man himself, as a rabbit track in snow leads eventually to the rabbit. It is one of his more endearing qualities that man should think his tracks lead outward, toward something else, instead of back around the hill to where he has already been; and it is one of his persistent ambitions to leave earth entirely and travel by rocket into space, beyond the pull of gravity, and perhaps try another planet, as a pleasant change. He knows that the atomic age is capable of delivering a new package of energy; what he doesn’t know is whether it will prove to be a blessing. This week, many will be reminded that no explosion of atoms generates so hopeful a light as the reflection of a star, seen appreciatively in a pasture pond. It is there we perceive Christmas—and the sheep quiet, and the world waiting."

Solstice

2009-12-21T14:28:00.000-08:00

The Magic of the Longest Night ....

Suddenly, the dark and cold are with us ... we have snow, we have overcast skies and when we look at a clock face, we're surprised to learn that it is still afternoon and not well into the evening.
Even though we've been noting the low hanging southern pathway of the Sun's travels across the sky these days, we seem always to be caught by surprise when the darkness comes.

Because we live with artificial lighting it is easy to lose track of the darkening winter days, even when the skies are not overcast. Daytime, or night, if we're urban city dwellers it is difficult to remember to watch the stars because we live encased in concrete and neon. Our northern hemisphere ancestors lived so close to nature that they were often able to take the measure of the seasons and of time by observing the animals and the flora about them ... but there was nothing that was as sure a indicator to point the way as the northern constellations of the night skies.

North Star Poem

Constellations come,
and climb the heavens, and go,
And thou dost see them rise,
Star of the Pole!
and thou dost see them set,
Alone, in thy cold skies,
Thou keep'st thy old unmoving station yet.

Although it is true that the North Star appears never to change its position, it is also true that for those of us who live in the northern hemisphere there are certain circumpolar constellations which never "set" but appear to circle the North Star on a seasonal basis. The constellations are Ursa Major (The Big Bear), Ursa Minor (The Little Bear), Cassiopia, Cepheus, and Draco, the Dragon. The Indians of the North American plains knew that near to the Solstice they could see all of the "sacred constellations" which circled the Pole Star, and believed that the constellations laid out a map or a chart of the locations of the sacred places in the Black Hills of what is now North Dakota. Modern scholars debate the importance of astronomy to the Lakota peoples of America, in spite of the existence of the great Medicine Wheels which are found in the northern planes of the US and further north in Canada. There can be no doubt of the importance of the positions of the stars to European peoples however - and it appears to be true that the great pillars of Stonehenge are placed in patterns which seem to be related to those of the North American medicine wheels. Ancient mound builders erected small mounds to mark the rising of certain seasonal stars in known constellation. Currently, however, some scholars propose that the bitter cold of northern winters "kept people inside at night" and therefore, the winter skies were of little importance.

Northern Circumpolar Constellations

Because I grew up on the Mid-Western plains in a family of farmers, and hunters who were blessed with native American ancestors, it is very difficult for me to imagine that either the Northern Plains Indians or my Northern European Ancestors were kept "inside at night," by the cold and knew nothing of the Winter Skies. I have no scientific basis for my belief that Northern Plains Indians understood the mapping of the night time winter skies, but my experience of winter nights in the Rocky Mountains tells me that the beauty and mystery of those deep, endless skies is too great not to have drawn my ancient ancestors outside into the cold darkness to look up and wonder ... and to learn to look for those signposts that are set to guide all of us the way home, and the way through the seasons. Many of my friends have spoken recently of an instinctive sense of the mystic properties of fire which they seem to be discovering. The same intuitive curiosity or "race memory" is what draws us to wonder about the blackness of those unending night time skies, and it has always been so - the same memory, so dim in some of us now, is the instinctive need that pulled our ancestors out side their lodges to gaze up into the glittering skies of the longest night.

If you are blessed to live in an area where you can still see the night skies, on this most magical of all nights go outside, into the beautiful cold dark of the Solstice, and look up. Look straight up. If the view is good, and there is not a great deal of interference from the appliances of civilization, you will see the "circle" of the Polar Constellations. Then, light a fire - even if it is just a candle, and drink a toast to our ancestors.

(courtesy of "Candle Grove" Website)

Through the longest night, rings out the song,

"Praise be to the distant Sister Sun,

joyful as the silver planets run."
Solstice Bells, Jethro Tull

From the coldest places of the frozen north, to the milder climes of the Northern Hemisphere, fires burn, halls are decked, dancing and feasting continue, all in the hope and the faith that the
"distant Sister Sun" will return, even as the silver planets revolve in their appointed orbits ... and faithful to her Children the Mother does appear. In many ways, in many places, even now, we
are aware of the promise of the Sun.

A Nast Santa watches for the sunrise from his North Pole Balcony

A character from Justin Thomas "Mythticklers" welcomes the sun following the Long Winter Night

DEEP IN DECEMBER

2009-12-18T16:43:00.000-08:00

TO DRIVE THE COLD WINTER AWAY

All hayle to the days that merit more praise than all the rest of the year,
& Welcome the nights that double delights as well for the poor as the peer.
Good fortune attend each merry man's friend that doth but the best that he may

This time of the yeare is spent in good cheare, kind neighbours together to meet
To sit by the fire, with friendly desire each other in love to greet:
Old grudges forgot are put in a pot, all sorrows aside they lay'
The old and the young doth carrol this Song, to drive the cold winter away.

To maske and to mum kind neighbours will come with Wassels of nut-browne Ale
To drinke and carouse to all in this house, as merry as buck in the pale;
Where cake, bread and cheese, is brought for yr fees to make you the longer stay,
The fire to warme will do you no harme, to drive the cold winter away.

When Christmas tide comes in like a Bride, with Holly and Ivy clad, --
Twelve dayes in the yeare much mirth and good cheare in every household is had
The countrey guise is then to devise some gambols of Christmas play,
Whereas the yong men do best that they can to drive the cold winter away.

from the Roxburghe Collection

Suddenly Time, as it always does in December, lets us know that it has played its annual trick on us ... while we were thinking of other things, other days, other times, it has passed on its merry way and we're here with just a few days until the Solstice ... I've been thinking of the Old Ways when Yule was celebrated as the Solstice, and pondering the gradual transformation into Yuletide and Christmas .... it is almost mind-boggling to try and comprehend how we, in the northern hemisphere have passed through all these centuries from the time of a fire celebration designed to drive the cold winter away, into the riot of lights, music, noise, gift-giving, commercialization and frenzied spending that Christmas has become ....

The Time Which Is Not Time - December Days

2009-12-01T07:46:00.000-08:00

It is a cold day, going into a cold evening with a colder night to come. The last day of November was gloomy with dark, but somehow comforting snow clouds hanging in the gray sky. We're into Advent Season on the Christian Calender, the Solstice is fast approaching and the moon is nearly full. The urge to go to ground and hibernate is nearly overwhelming!

"Hiver"

"Winter Moon"

The Season of Advent

The Christian observance of Advent marks the beginning of the liturgical year in Protestant and Catholic Churches of the Western Tradition. Advent is a four week period of preparation and contemplation leading up to Christmas Day and the celebration of the Birth of Christ. The observance is currently celebrated widely in both Protestant and Catholic congregations and recognizes a special liturgy with the use of an Advent wreath and the lighting of candles each week until Christmas Eve when the season of Advent ends.

Advent calendars, which are popular the world over, are yet another Christmas custom which find their origins in Germany. The first printed calendars were made by Gerhard Lang who reproduced the kind of calendar his mother had made for him when he was a child. These early calendars had candles and sometimes candy, which could be removed daily as the days until Christmas were impatiently counted. Later calendars were printed with numbered windows which could be opened each day to reveal a new picture or symbol related to the season. The earliest calendars were produced in religious themes,

but following World War II calendars were produced which depicted secular themes and illustrations of the Christmas season.

Yule, Solstice and Ancient Traditions

Less than a week ago, my backyard and the surrounding countryside offered up a crisp, but temperate, sunny December day filled with small enchantments. The backyard bustled with the delightful antics of gray squirrels scampering about on the ground busily gathering up whatever it is that gray squirrels find to stuff into their cheeks. There were cotton-tail rabbits hopping about eating the still abundant green growth which covered the ground, and the bushes were full of brilliant red Cardinals eating berries just as red and brilliant as their own feathers. Later, as I rode across the sunny country-side, a herd of ten or twelve white tailed deer were working their way across the stubble of a just picked cornfield, nibbling on the left-behind ears of corn and fodder. True to the ancient rules of the harvest, what was left after the end of October belong ed to the Mother's children.

This morning, a scant four December days later, the wind rattles bushes and trees as it swirls falling snow, the ground has a substantial covering of white powder, and the sky is a uniform milky gray overcast which offers no immediate promise of sunshine

"Bunny Den"

The sudden change from the warm sunny days of post harvest, to the cold inhospitable winds of winter makes a person think of the ancient tribes of the great northern forests and what they must have felt when the short, dark days of winter finally enclosed them in their lodges and tents ... Many primitive northern hemisphere tribes (including American Indians) fashioned wreaths of evergreen to symbolize the eternal circle of the seasons, and the cyclical, eternal nature of life. A reminder that the earth would turn back to the season of light, and that time, even though it did not behave normally during the season of darkness, was still working to return light, warmth and springtime to the land. A promise of sorts, that even if the sun left, it would come again with the turn of the earth's wheel. In the Scandinavian countries of the very far north, the sun did completely disappear for many days. "Watchers" would be sent to catch the first glimpse of the return of the sun, and great fires would be lit to signal its rising. In some places, huge bundled wheels of branches were set afire and rolled down hills to herald the return of the sun. The tradition of a ring of fire existed among the Germanic tribes and candles were lit on wreaths to number the days until

the return of the light at Solstice and the celebration of Julfest. A person thinks especially of the tribes who lived in the tall dense forests of Northern Europe - forests so deep, dark and foreboding that they stopped even the advancing legions of the Roman Empire. What must it have been like to suddenly face the cold, mysterious darkness of unyielding winter in those endless forests? Were they truly frightening and inhospitable, or did they offer refuge and safety to those who knew and respected them? The solution for the ever darkening days of winter was to light fires, and enjoy celebratory feasting and dancing! Evergreen boughs, holly and mistletoe were used to decorate large dining halls and small cottages alike and served as "fire starters" to help light new fires. All of the sacred "evergreens" were believed to have eternal life and sending their spirit into the smoke would encourage the Sun to return to its appointed place in the sky. It is believed that the "Yule Tree" came into favor at this time as well. The Yule Log itself was burned to bring luck and good fortune to the house, and a small part of it would be saved to light next year's log. Embers from the Yule fire might be carried off to the fireplaces of each home to restart the new year's fire. The slaughter and preparation of a prize boar was another Yule custom which has continued into modern times, and is the basis for our tradition of "Christmas Ham." Conversion to Christianity came late to these proud and warlike Germanic peoples and it was far easier to superimpose a Christian reinterpretation for their seasonal feasts than to attempt to suppress them.

"Bringing in the Yule Log"

I have news for you;
The stag bells, winter snows, summer has gone.
Wind high and cold, the sun low, short its course
The sea running high.
Deep red the bracken, its shape is lost.
The wild goose has raised its accustomed cry,
Cold has seized the birds' wings.
Season of ice; this is my news.

9th Century Irish Poem

Halloween October 31, 2009

2009-10-31T08:35:00.000-07:00

Trick Or Treat!!!! Happy Happy Spooky Boo!

Favorite things from my own collection of vintage Halloween decorations and ephemera, to share with you! Check back often, I'll add more and the day and inspiration allow!

For a fun discussion of the History of Halloween, and its evolution into a favorite holiday for many the world over, see my Heart Sister's blog today:

http://www.gazehound.com/halloween-day-of-the-dead-or-just-a-day-of-fun/

The Spirit of the Place - Indiana October

2009-10-28T07:29:00.000-07:00

Ancient and enduring .....

A mound construct, estimated to be as old as three to four thousand years. This one, like most of the earthworks in this area, is located on the south bank of a river. This mound is rectangular in shape and the
ramp leading to the central platform aligns with the spring and autumn equinoxes. The silence in this place is palpable, and I believe time would stand still there if only a person could remember the secret spell.

Alive with beauty and meaning .....

Just as the October of Medieval Europe brought the final flurry of work to carry in the last of the summer's harvest, even now in the new world of the American Mid-West, farmers push to get grain crops out of the fields at the optimum time of harvest, while all around them, the countryside says "Hurry, summer is leaving - the Wheel still turns!" The sun dips behind the horizon a bit sooner each day just as it has for centuries. Cows in newly acquired winter coats watch curiously as the world around them bustles by with a sense of purpose and direction, and always the message is "Hurry! Hurry! The days are slipping by, summer is leaving, summer is leaving!" The modern counterpart of the feudal shareholder raises clouds of dust visible for miles as he scurries to combine a bean crop, but the same voice whispers in his ear as well, "Hurry, hurry, the corn is ready too!" And from Sun to Sun, the message of late October is as ancient as the Wheel of the Year which turns toward the end of Harvest ... "Hurry, Hurry - Summer is over!"

End of Harvest, Last of Summer....

The waxing moon rides high in the October skies, escorting sparkling Jupiter for a brief time each night, as the Wheel of the Year turns and pushes the season of summer toward the time of the year the ancient Celts called "Samhain," or the "end of summer." The days of harvest are ending, and it is time now to gather all in and wait for the first cold winds of winter to drive away the last balmy days of Indian Summer. The hours of lengthening darkness are increasing each day and we're moving quickly toward the Winter Solstice and the longest night of the year. For many who followed the ancient religions, the time between Samhain, which was also the Celtic New Year, and Yule, or the Winter Solstice" was a time which did not pass according to the natural laws of the planet. The "time which is no time," or "the time between" was seen as a period of chaos during which rules, both physical and social were not followed or adhered to. It was a time of great opportunity for magic, mystery and mystical happenings - a time which could also be very dangerous for those who did not keep their wits about them. A time born in the festival of harvest, a time of respite from the unceasing toil and boredom of daily work in the fields, and a time when hearth fires would be lit from the embers of festival bonfires and kept burning to fend off the cold of the darkest time of year.

October, Month of Change and Symbols

2009-10-23T07:34:00.000-07:00

Robert Graves, author of the sometimes controversial book, The White Goddess, held that poetry was a mystical, magical language which guided ritual to the realm of spiritual truth. In his search for the origins of the European Goddess religions, Graves compiled a kind of Celtic Zodiac, based on the lunar calendar of the Celts and their correspondences with the sacred trees of Celtic culture. The Celts claimed the magical powers of the groves hidden deep in the great forests and attributed special qualities and powers to each tree. Ivy is the symbol for the month of October, called Gort, which extends from September 30 to October 27. Ivy was the plant associated with the opening of the portal to the Otherworld and represented all that was mysterious and magical about the last days of summer, when the veil between the worlds is thinnest and time ceases to exist.

In the Northern Hemisphere, October is regarded as a month of marked and sudden changes in the tempo and look of the country side. Even in the cities, dwellers are aware of the quickening pace of changes in the world around them. The balance of Libra shifts and tips as light diminishes and the hours of darkness increase, and a sense of delicious mystery and magic begin to fill the air. Brisk winds and rustling leaves alert us to the revolving Wheel of the Year that is as ancient as the planet, so palpable and real it cannot be ignored The ancient Europeans marked the month of October as the month of the last Harvest and thus as the ending of the year - in other parts of the world, cultures even more ancient than the Celts explained the shift in the growing patterns and weather with mysteries and goddesses of their own. Hecate, the goddess of midnight crossroads and the cauldron and hunting hounds was believed to be abroad at night during the ending of the year and in an additional guise, was the protector of women, especially those in childbirth. She is a dark goddess, a deity fit for the shadowy mysteries of October.

In the early mists of time, the pomegranate was considered a symbol of good fortune and fertility. In the contemporary painting by Robert Lenz (below), the fruit is offered to the viewer by the most ancient goddess, "Eve Mother of All."

In later goddess mythology, the pomegranate becomes a symbol of the darkness of October, the end of the harvest season, and the onset of winter when Hades kidnaps Persephone, the daughter of Demeter (who is the goddess of agriculture and the "bringer of seasons"), and carries her off to the mysterious "underworld." Demeter became so grieved over the loss of her daughter, that her sadness caused the earth to die. The sun hid, and nothing grew, the earth became barren with the coldness of winter. Hades was finally convinced to release Persephone to return to her mother, but before leaving the kingdom of the ruler of the underworld, Persephone ate six pomegranate seeds (or four or three depending on the myth) which meant that she was bound to return to Hades for six months (or four or three) each year. Of course each time she returned to the kingdom of the underworld, her mother grieved and winter returned. Thus, we have a cycle of seasonal weather on the planet earth.

Persephone
Dante Gabriel Rossette

In the course of time, "pagan" goddesses were replaced by the Virgin Mary, and lo and behold, the pomegranate became a symbol of her love and purity. Renaissance painters often depicted the Virgin as Madonna with Baby Jesus holding a pomegranate in his hands ... Renaissance painters were often known for their ability to "paint between the lines" so to speak, and loved to include Pagan symbolism in their religious art work.

Botticelli - Madonna of the Pomegranate

Also, in the course of time, the idea of October as a month of mysteries and dark secrets lightened up just a bit - some artists contented themselves with the idea of fairy folk frolicking in the golden weather and brilliant hues of the dying harvest, but by some strange twist managed to include those "October" plants which have a certain reputation for sharp or prickly parts,

The Hawthorne Fairy

Or, just plain deadly and poison parts,

The Deadly Nightshade Berry Fairy

And sometimes fairies just want to have innocent fun and dance!

But, as it always must, the Wheel of the Year turns steadily toward the end of summer, the final harvest is nearly complete and at its appointed time, the sun slips across the cusp, from the tilting scales of Libra, into the sign of fall, mystery, magic and the last of summer; toward the time when the veil is at its thinnest, into the sign of the Scorpion

Sign of Scorpio
October 23 - November 21

Gort-Ivy Greeting Card Graphic Courtesty of:
Hedinghamfair, UK
http://www.hedinghamfair.co.uk/bc_special.htm

October Morn ......

2009-10-17T10:45:00.000-07:00

At first light, on a drizzly, cold and damp October morning, the toadstools made their scheduled appearance in the long, rain-soaked grass of my yard. They materialize every year around the middle of October and march and dance along the root lines of an ancient Chinese Elm tree. For me and mine, they signal the true beginning of the Season of the Witch. These aren't the joyful "Fairy Circles" of a mid-summer's eve, but I'm sure they're inhabited by fairies and other magical beings all the same. The sturdy toad stools are just the right height to be a true throne for autumn fairies, a magical black squirrel or perhaps a dancing hare who is waiting for the moon to reappear.

October Skies - Thank You, Indiana University

2009-10-12T11:00:00.000-07:00

From IU News Room - Indiana University

Three planets appear close in October sky

Oct. 2, 2009

BLOOMINGTON, Ind. -- Jupiter will reach its highest point in the southern sky soon after darkness falls during October. Normally this would be the best time to view the great planet with a telescope, but in this case the images may be blurred by turbulence. Earth's atmosphere cools rapidly after sunset as it loses its daytime heat, and this tends to produce unsteady viewing. Use low magnification for better images.

Red-orange Mars will be climbing the eastern sky soon after midnight, and it will be high in the southeast by the start of morning twilight. Beginning the month south of the bright stars Castor and Pollux in the constellation Gemini the Twins, Mars will cross into the constellation Cancer the Crab. By month's end the planet will approach the Beehive star cluster, a spectacular sight in binoculars or a low-power telescope.

Three planets will appear close together in the predawn sky in early October. Venus will be the first to rise, coming up two hours before the sun as a dazzling white "morning star" low in the east. Venus has probably provoked more UFO reports than any other object in the night sky, and it's easy to see why.

Mercury will follow Venus about 45 minutes later at the beginning of the month, much fainter but getting brighter each day. The small planet will be highest above the eastern horizon on Oct. 6, about a half hour before sunrise.

Last to appear will be Saturn, rising about 20 minutes after Mercury as the dawn sky brightens at the beginning of the month. The two planets will be closer each morning until Oct. 8, when brighter Mercury can serve as a marker for Saturn passing less than 1 degree above it. In the days following, Saturn will climb higher until it passes similarly close above brilliant Venus on Oct. 13. Saturn's rings were tilted edgewise to Earth in September, but their tilt to our line of sight will increase rapidly during October as Saturn continues to climb higher in our sky.

Meteor shower

The Orionid meteor shower will peak before the first light of dawn on Oct. 21. Moonlight will not interfere, so observers with a dark sky may see up to 30 meteors per hour. The Orionids appear to originate from the familiar constellation Orion the Hunter. Orion will rise before midnight in the east-southeast, and the number of meteors will increase as it gets higher above the horizon. The shower will be active for most of October, with the number of meteors gradually increasing from the start and declining after the peak. The Orionid meteors are dust particles from Halley's Comet, left behind in the comet's orbit.

Moon phases

The moon will be full on Oct. 4, at third quarter on Oct. 11, new on Oct. 18 and at first quarter on Oct. 25.

http://newsinfo.iu.edu/news/page/normal/12031.html

Chinese Full Moon Festival

2009-10-03T20:16:00.000-07:00

China's Moon Festival is a harvest festival. Sometimes called the Mid-Autumn Festival, the celebration is held on the fifteenth day of the eighth lunar month when the moon is said to be at its brightest and fullest of the entire year. In the year 2009, the Full Moon Festival falls in October on the third day of the month. It is a traditional family gathering time, and moon cakes are a very special part of the festival dinner.

Lanterns are always a part of the Mid-Autumn Full Moon celebration. They are often lit and set afloat on a river and watching then until they've floated out of sight is thought to ensure good fortune for the coming year. Specially constructed Hung-Ming lanterns are a favorite of young children because they can "fly" due to the heat from the candles burning in them.

The Full Moon Festival is very ancient and many wonderful legends and activities are associated with it. It is second in importance of all Chinese Festivals. Read about the history and traditions here:

http://chineseculture.about.com/library/weekly/aa093097.htm

October is a month when many traditional festivals are held all over the world ... but mostly, everyone just enjoys contemplating that big, full, Hunters-Harvest Moon!

October Arrives!

2009-10-01T16:02:00.000-07:00

"Listen! The wind is rising
And the air is wild with leaves,
We have had our summer evenings,
now for October eves!"

Humbert Wolfe

Zodiacal Tympanum - Medieval Illumination - Book of Hours, Duc De Berry

c. 1412

October

This tympanum, prepared for the month of October, represents the gradual shift through the astrological year from the Zodiacal sign of Libra into the sign of Scorpio. The sign of Libra commences in the month of September and coincides with the Autumnal Equinox. Thus Libra, symbolized by the glyph of the scales, represents not only the desire for justice, balance and harmony, but also reflects the balance of the Equinox -- the equal division of

night and day, with the shortening hours of daylight progressing toward the "dark" sign of Scorpio - the end of long summer days, into the month of the third and final harvest, toward the time to begin to gather in and make preparations for the long, dark and sometimes dangerous months of winter
.

In Medieval Europe, the final plowing of harvested fields took place in October, in preparation for the planting of winter wheat and rye. The wooden frame tool shown in the three illuminations above is a harrow, and was pulled across planted fields by horse power or man power in order to break up remaining clods of earth and, most important to cover the seed and protect it from hungry birds. Villagers might post a man with a bow and arrow to dispatch birds while planting and harrowing was in progress and one of the most important jobs assigned to young children was to watch planted fields and to chase the birds away. In the October illumination, below, from the pages of the Book of Hours of The Duc De Berry, a scarecrow has been placed in the middle of a planted field, and there are rows of string with rags tied to them to discourage marauding birds. The scarecrow is holding what appears to be a bow, as if to convince the crows of his ability to dispatch them with a well placed arrow. Ravens or crows were the worst thieves, but doves owned by nobles were also very destructive; however, because the doves were under the protection of the nobility, it was not permitted to drive them away from planted fields.

Women have always played an essential role in agricultural economies. In the manuscript pages I've chosen for October, several present women in their role as workers and providers. In one of the illuminations above, a woman appears to be carrying a bag of grain seed as her male companion sows the seed. In my favorite of the three harrowing/sowing illuminations, a woman stands beside her husband in the field as he sows, and she is not idle! She is spinning wool using a distaff and a drop spindle to prepare thread for knitting and weaving. In the illumination directly below, a woman carries her distaff and spindle as she feeds a flock of chickens. Spinning was a nearly constant job for women, and the tools of their trade became so closely associated with their gender that in time, the female branch of a family became known as the "distaff side."

Our final illumination shows the October work of harvest (note the tiny Scorpio glyph at the top of the painting), the gathering in of the crops. A man and woman walking together bend low under the weight of the grain sacks, while a small dog frolics beside them.

Harvest Home, Harvest Home!
We've plowed, we've sowed
We've reaped, we've mowed
And brought home safe
Every load!

Full Moon In Red - Better Late Than Never

2009-09-10T15:41:00.000-07:00

This is a picture of the full moon as seen in East Central Indiana on September 4th or 5th .... it came up as red as fire and stayed that way for quite a while ... credit my daughter for this photo - I thought she did a wonderful job ... picture was actually taken within a few feet of a very ancient, pre-Columbian Indian earth work which is placed to correspond with the equinoxes. Even though we're a few days away from the Autumnal Equinox, the sun set and moon rise are beginning to align with the entrances to this "rectangular" mound. I'm fighting what I hope is NOT "Swine Flu," and if I feel better in a few days, I'll be on the lookout for the Autumn Star which is named Fomalhaut .... when it passes over the point of the Fall Equinox, country folk, the ancient peoples and animals know that winter is coming, and it is time to gather in, or just begin the trek home to winter encampments.

In Indiana, the trees have been turning for several weeks now, and the corn is dried out just about half-way up the stalks. The soy bean fields are flecked with patches of yellow gold, and the second cutting of hay is baled and out of the fields. The deer are coming out of the woods and into fields as well, it isn't unusual to see them in numbers of four and five ... yes, winter is coming and the Old Farmers Almanac says it is going to be very cold and snowy this year.

I wish I could fly away.

Come September

2009-09-01T13:38:00.000-07:00

Like many other women, my personal relationship with my mother was very ambivalent. She was not an average mother at all, even though when the mood struck her, she could be very nurturing and fun to be with.

My mother was, as they used to say back in the day, a "law unto herself." She was truly drop dead gorgeous, turn around for a second look, movie star beautiful. I cannot count all the men who, upon learning that I was "Lee's daughter," made it a point to tell me that my mother was the most beautiful woman they had ever seen. One of her last requests before her death was that there should be a trumpeter at her funeral to play When The Saints Go Marching In, "just like they do in New Orleans." My uncle, her brother, called the local musician's union and hired a trumpet player for her just as she wished. He played at her graveside, and when he was finished, he looked around at the tombstones, and seeing the family name asked if my mother was "Shorty Saffer's sister?" My uncle "Shorty" was a musician too, a drummer, and as it turned out, he and the trumpeter had played in the same bands back in the Glory Days of the 1930s. The trumpeter recounted to me that he could still remember my mother and father dancing together to the sounds of the big bands, and sure enough, his last comment was, "Your mother was the most beautiful woman I ever saw." Mom would have loved that epitaph.

What does all this have to do with "Come September?" Well, in addition to being beautiful, my mother was a free spirit who was gifted creatively and intellectually, and was also struck with a large dose of the wanderlust. Her closest friends all acknowledged that she was "kin to the wild goose." She could generally manage to stay in one place through the summer, but as the days began to grow shorter, she would yield to the lure of the open road. On the first day of each September (even when I was an adult), I could count on her to call me on the phone and announce, "Daughter, it has Come September. Let us go for a little ride, you and I." Our rides lasted in duration from most of a single day, to trips up-state, to cross country jaunts ... sometimes by auto (she loved to drive), sometimes by train - she loved dining cars and Pullman sleepers - and always included a little "box lunch" of things to eat along the way. In later years, our automobile trips began with a stop at whatever McDonald's was on the way out of town, because she said they made the best cup of coffee anywhere. It was not possible to begin or sustain any journey without a succession of stops along the way to reheat her McDonald's coffee.

My Mom has been gone for twenty years and more now, and as each year passes I regret a bit more that I didn't follow her advice to "leave this damn town, and find a better place to live." I've stayed all these years for what seemed to be good reasons at the time, but the longer I'm here, the less I want to remain. So much has changed, my family has all passed on, and like so many towns which thrived on manufacturing, the jobs have vanished and the people who depended on them have moved away looking for opportunity in other parts of the state or the country. Looking around at the shrinking, dying town, I realize that I feel "left behind," very much the way Johnny Appleseed felt left behind in the opening frames of the Walt Disney animation about his life. "Get on a wagon rollin' West, or you'll be left alone!," the pioneers sang to Johnny. Apparently I'm struck with the same migratory urges as my mother, because I've always had the strongest feeling of being "left behind" especially around the first of September - a sensation which only increases as the summer dies into autumn and and the trees begin to change color. But, here I've stayed, for one reason and another - an aging family who seemed to need me, a daughter who seemed to need me, a job, which I seemed to need, and a house bought and paid for. I guess the situation could be described as "inertia due to a sense of being needed and feeling secure." I almost made it out a couple of times - once to Colorado, and again just after 9/11, but got stopped both times by failing health. Once by fading eye-sight, and once by a serious heart attack.

The First of September arrived today. Shortly after noon, I went through McDonald's and bought a small cup of coffee with cream and sugar, and drove the fifteen miles north-east to the old country cemetery where my mother, and most of her family are buried. I sat the McDonald's cup down by my mother's headstone, and I sat myself down there too. It is a beautiful late summer day - the azure blue sky, cloudless, reminds me of Colorado. I talked with my Mom about lots of things - places we'd been together, my antique shop (she taught me about antiques and to love reading, art and poetry) and I told her about places my daughter and I have traveled together. It was a pure country day - near-by a girder bridge with a wooden plank floor rattled each time a car drove over it, and crows called overhead to sound an alarm for marauding hawks.

I talked with my Mom some more, waiting for some sort of sign, and got none. I walked a bit further back into the cemetery to say "hello" to my great aunt, who is buried beside my cousin, her grandson Looking at the dates on their headstones, I realized that he was born the same year as I, and he's been gone these past nine years. I got no message or sign there either, so I wandered slowly back to the family plot to say my good-byes. I left the coffee with my Mom half hoping for some words of wisdom, from the family assembled.

At first, I thought there was nothing, but then it came to me ..... "Why are you still here? Can't you leave? Find a place and go, while you still can."

Maybe I'll give it a try.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IASrP1-DulU&NR=1

Lucky Charms & Prodigal Geese

2009-07-15T08:00:00.000-07:00

On Monday of this week, six days after the departure of our family of Canadas, I was walking through a large "super store" and something on an end cap display of jewelry caught my eye. I never pay attention to "faux Indian" jewelry, so I was surprised to find myself stopping to look at this display. The thing that caught me at the sub-conscious level was a necklace set of multiple strands of beads, turquoise, seeds and glass. The pendant was a disk of "mother of pearl" with what appeared to be a small bird fetish hanging over it. As I looked at it, it reminded me of the many paintings I've seen of a Canada Goose in flight across a full moon. There it was, all alone amongst other quasi Indian silver pieces, hanging on a cardboard display wrapper which said "Made in China" in the lower right hand corner. I shrugged the sensation off, and started to continue my journey to the electronics department, but I couldn't leave --- I searched through the rest of the display and there was no other piece that looked like this one ... I was absolutely drawn to it, because of the "synchronicity" of finding such a thing so recently after the loss of our family of geese. I had the wildly romantic thought that perhaps the Universe had sent me a sign (all the way from China) that my geese were ok and wanted me to know about them.

So, I bought the thing. The cashier stuffed it into a styrofoam bag, and I stuffed it into my purse and left, carrying more important purchases in my hand. So much for faux fetish pieces I thought to myself, and vowed not to let my daughter know how silly and romantic I'd been, even if it was just a $5.00 purchase.

Later that evening, waiting for the rest of our dinner party to join us in the car and head home, I put my hand into the purse and found the sack with the necklace in it. Bored, I took it out of the package and off the card ... I was surprised to find that it was a single necklace of three strands, and not interchangeable strands as I'd originally thought .... Interesting clasp too. Still alone in the car, I found myself fastening the necklace around my neck ... I checked out the "look" in the sun visor mirror, found it acceptable and then tucked in inside the neck of my t-top. My hand came to rest on the strands of beads and I could feel the little fetish against the moon disk. I had to smile, and found myself thanking the birds for sending me this little momento of the time we'd spent getting to know one another - I ask the Mother to look over them, keep them safe, and if it was what they would like, I wanted to see them one more time just to know they were "ok."

The next day, on Tuesday afternoon, I got an IM from my daughter at work ... The Geese are back!
They have a new one with them, but it is the same family. They're all here!

Never doubt the power of a faux Native American fetish, made in China and purchased in Walmart! More likely, the message is to attend to one's surroundings, because no matter how far we stray from the original plan, the future is ancient and will find ways to remind us who we are and how we are to find our way on the planet and in the Universe.

The addition of a new member in the goose family made me wonder if it could possibly be the same "adolescent" member of the family who had been chased away when the fledglings hatched. The question sent me on another research trek across the internet and I learned many new things about Canada Geese.

In addition to being monogamous, Canada Geese are very family oriented. As I learned earlier in the year, the baby geese stay with their parents for a full year, making the migratory flight with them in the fall and again in the spring. The family members do recognize one another, and so it is possible that when the parents begin to take their fledglings away on foraging expeditions, they will find and add the "older children" who have not yet found mates. Migration routes are passed on from generation to generation, with parents teaching their young how to find their way. Canadas are capable of flying thousands of miles at a time, but they often stop to allow younger or older birds to rest, and they often change leaders in their V-formations because that is the most strenuous position to fly ... Canadas fly by day, using remembered landmarks to find their way, and here is the most miraculous thing about them. They also travel at night, and they navigate by the stars! Can you imagine that? Flying at night, high above the earth, always together with family and kin, always flying toward Polaris, that ancient guiding star, always knowing to fly toward Basic North.