Blog ~ Ruffled Feathers

Thoughts, ideas, perspectives, ruminations. If we make it through life without ruffling a few feathers, have we really lived?

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Green – Day 975

Posted on by Lisa Weikel Leave a comment
Ferns of Every Stripe – Photo: L.Weikel

Green

I realized again today just how much green inundates our environment. Especially with the wildfires rampaging out of control out west again, it feels like a gross indulgence. Instead of feeling guilty about how much water we have, though, we’re trying to open our eyes, and our hearts, and truly be appreciative of this natural resource’s abundance around us.

There is a portion of lower Bucks County, though, that’s almost certainly not appreciating the over-abundance of water that visited in the form of some torrential rain late yesterday afternoon. The meteorologists are categorizing this as a 100 year flood – but I have a sense we’ll be seeing another just like it, or worse, within the next few years; perhaps even before this summer is over. It’s scary. And expensive – both emotionally and of course financially.

Green & Lightning Bugs – Photo: L.Weikel

Appreciate the Beauty

While we can, for who knows how long we’ll have the benefit of all this moisture coming our way, we need to revel in the greenery. It sure beats having our yards become dirt and everything we plant crumble into dry oblivion.

Speaking of beauty, though – I must admit, this stricture against feeding our birds is torturous. I hear them singing and calling in the trees and within the thickets surrounding our house. They really are wondering what’s up. Even the hawks are wondering why the community is in lockdown and there’s no fast-food joints operating anymore.

To be honest, I think the hawks have been the most vociferous in the past few days. Hawk is having no trouble delivering its message: Feed us! You’re disrupting our entire community here!

Speaking of Food (Again)

I just had to add a photo of the kale I massaged earlier today. This batch was obviously made with green and red grapes instead of strawberries. It was delectable.

Freshly Massaged Kale – with grapes this time – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-136)

Bunnies and Bugs – Day 974

Posted on by Lisa Weikel Leave a comment
Chocolate? Or Just Striking a Classic Pose? – Photo: L. Weikel

Bunnies and Bugs

The last few days have yielded such an abundant array of magical encounters with insects and animals that it’s hard to choose which photos I want to share. I’m excited that I managed to get a few photos of lightning bugs as they emerged from long field grasses at twilight. And the evening before, just slightly earlier in the evening, a bunny could’ve been the model for chocolate Easter Bunnies worldwide. Bunnies and bugs, an unbeatable pair.

Every now and then you can’t go wrong by taking a walk well after sundown but before all the light disappears. The temptation to do so increases exponentially when we’re enduring day after day of summer heat and, worse, humidity that can bring you to your knees.

Spartacus and I took our daily constitutional just after 8:00 p.m. last night and our efforts were amply rewarded.

Lightning Bugs Frolicking – Photo: L. Weikel

Reprieve From the Heat

Walking well after sundown was the only way to avoid flirting with heat-related complications. As the day unfolded, neither Spartacus nor I felt like keeling over, yet we knew it was a possibility. The air became so hot and close in the late afternoon that even I had to abandon my beloved porch. This was not a defeat I take lightly.

Besides the gift of a complete lack of traffic, walking later treated us to a delightful array of night sounds, primarily comprised of tree frogs, bull frogs, crickets, and catbirds. And as I mentioned above, the lightning bugs were out in full force, rising from their hiding places deep within the crosshatch at the base of the field grasses.

The batch we saw last night seemed to consist of a variety of lightning bug society. There were the quick flashers and the long zippers, trailing their names across the sky like sparklers. Some abdomens sported bold statements  – akin to klieg lights – while others seemed to barely generate any wattage at all.

I’ll be curious to see how well the photo I’m placing below is able to be seen once its published. As it shows up on my laptop, there’s a distinctive quality to it that makes it look far more like a painting than a photo. It delights me – and I hope it translates onto your screen.

Annual Urge

I’m always agog by the magic of walking in the evening. It’s almost as if I forget the loveliness of the experience, in spite of it engaging virtually every one of my senses.

Consider this my annual entreaty to each of you to give yourself the gift of an evening stroll at least once this summer. I know it’s hard to drag yourself outside once the sun is down and you’ve settled into your living room’s comfy spots. But I guarantee you will hold in your heart forever the mystical beauty of watching lightning bugs rise up and play.

Unedited and unfiltered – lightning bugs – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-137)

Massaged Kale – Day 973

Posted on by Lisa Weikel Leave a comment
Massaged Kale* – Photo: L. Weikel

Massaged Kale

In yesterday’s blog I referenced my absolute favorite way to eat kale. Actually, aside from the extremely rare (i.e., maybe once a year) impulse-adds to a stew or a stir-fry, massaged kale is the only way I prepare this prolific leafy green vegetable.

I think I first saw the recipe for massaged kale on Facebook. I’m pretty sure I’d never eaten kale before. There’s no doubt in my mind that I never even once ate it when I was growing up. We were mostly an iceberg lettuce kind of family – albeit I was usually in charge of ‘making the salad,’ and I’d cut up tomatoes, cucumbers, and onions if we had them.

It never even occurred to me, growing up, that there were any other types of lettuce beside iceberg. Surely I must’ve seen it in the grocery store.

And to think I grew up on a farm.

Hang On

Before you get all indignant and castigate my parents for being the worst farmers ever, I need to clarify: they weren’t farmers. We lived on a dairy farm. And that’s not even completely accurate, as no milking took place there. Our stone farmhouse was bordered by acres and acres of fenced-in pasture where heifers roamed. Yup. I grew up on a farm surrounded with teenage cows.

My father was a salesman for Bethlehem Steel and my mother was a librarian. And they both grew up in a suburb of Boston.

And when I was growing up in the ‘60s and ‘70s, there were no farmers’ markets teeming with fresh produce. It was cool to buy everything canned – or I guess maybe frozen occasionally, too. Bird’s Eye frozen vegetables. Yeah. I remember those little freezer bricks.

Now that I’m thinking about fresh vegetables, though…there was nothing that could compare to eating peas fresh off the vine in my best friend Chris’s grandfather’s garden. We’d just stand there, picking them off the vine, compulsively zipping them open and stripping the sweet, pearl-shaped treasures into our mouths with our teeth. Oh, yum.

Shoo-shoo grew spectacular vegetables, the most memorable to me being those peas and a variety of tomatoes. (I can just hear him now in his thick Italian accent, saying “Tomat!” and gesturing with his immaculate, calloused hands and a big grin on his face.) I think he wanted us to pick them – not eat them. Get to work. Earn our keep.

Back to the Kale

When I saw the recipe for Massaged Kale on FB, I had no preconceived distaste for kale lurking on my palate. Perhaps that made it easier for me try the recipe in the first place. I have to admit, the taste of just plain old steamed kale doesn’t do a lot for me. I don’t even like the smell of it. So yeah, my kale innocence was probably a boon. So for those of you who are kale cynics, I urge you to pretend you’ve never had it before.

The recipe itself couldn’t be simpler:

I like to use a good pound of kale. (That looks like a lot but trust me on this.) Strip the leaves from the main stalks using a large sharp knife. Once you’ve stripped the whole pound of kale, compost the stems – unless you’re a fanatic and make broth out of it or something. (I’m sure many of you out there would do more than just compost, but hey – we all have our limitations.)

Rip apart the pile of stripped leaves and put the pieces into a big salad or mixing bowl – the bigger the better. You’ll probably have to strip and rip several piles. It doesn’t hurt to squeeze them a bit as you’re ripping them, too. Every effort to break down the cellular structure of the kale benefits you in the long run. This is the part of the recipe that takes the longest.

Your bowl will probably be brimming with shredded kale leaves. Dress it liberally with olive oil: a good long drizzle in a couple of circles. Add maybe a tablespoon of sea salt – I like to lightly sprinkle the coarse size. And then add the juice of a whole fresh lemon.

Next is the best part: dive in and squeeze, kneed, and massage (hence the name) that kale. Do not take no for an answer. Pretend that kale represents your shoulders and give that green stuff some serious tough love.

You’ll be amazed at how quickly it becomes tame! That big puffy stuff that felt a bit stiff and unyielding and almost overflowed its bowl turns a richer, darker color and breaks down into a totally different and oddly compliant creature.

The final delectable addition is your choice: I like to add at least a good bunch of either white or red grapes sliced in half. Another favorite is at least a cup of sliced strawberries.  I’ve also occasionally used blueberries, although I prefer either grapes or strawberries.

Delicious

I’d like to note that I’ve massaged every type of kale I’ve encountered – both at the CSA and at the grocery store – and it all responds to my loving but assertive touch. I can’t recommend strongly enough that you really let yourself go on this – use it as a therapeutic tool just as so many kneed dough for bread. The more compliant your kale, the more delicious it tastes.

If you have any leftover, you may need to add more lemon juice the next day. (I tend to like my massaged kale tart (lemon juice), savory (sea salt), and sweet (grapes or strawberries). The mélange of flavors just floats my boat.

I hope it does yours, too. Try it!

*To be fair, this is a photo I took a few weeks ago to herald my first batch of the season. I didn’t make any this weekend, so I didn’t have a ‘more beautiful’ photo to share. This was just a random one I took to send to my kids, who all profess to love it…

(T-138)

Refuge – Day 972

Posted on by Lisa Weikel Leave a comment
  • Monarch on Echinacea – Photo: L. Weikel

Refuge

Right around noon today I unexpectedly encountered several minutes of profound peace. I rediscovered a place where the air is sweet and vast, and if you time it just right, wraps you in a cocoon of silence. Before today, I don’t think I would’ve called it this, but – it’s a place of refuge.

One of my daughters (in-law*) belongs to a local CSA. Tiffany is generous and makes a point of sharing her bounty with us. I (well, we) reciprocate in some small measure by picking up the weekly harvest when she can’t make it and occasionally massaging the kale. (Yes; that’s a thing. And I guarantee it’s the yummiest way to eat kale you’ve ever tried.)

Today was my turn.

After gathering up our allotment of precious bounty: red onions, cucumbers, carrots, kale, parsley, cabbage, summer squash and zucchini, I turned my sites on the vast fields where we get to ‘pick our own.’

Lots of Pollen On These Two – Photo: L. Weikel

Loose In the Fields

The CSA administrators essentially let us loose in the fields to pick our own raspberries and cherry tomatoes. We’re not entitled to pick as many as we might like; just like any good thing, there are limits. Indeed, getting to the fields late can mean you may not even be able to eke out half a pint of either, at least when the yield is only starting to come in.

We’re also welcome to pick from a variety of herbs, which I didn’t do; and I think okra may be in season as well. (That’s an interesting vegetable that could merit a post of its own.) But one of the best parts of the field is being entitled to pick the flowers they’ve cultivated.

Is It the Acoustics?

The acoustics of the fields are remarkable. Technically, it’s not actually the fields that cause the amazing acoustics, it’s the palisades, the massive stone edifices that tower over the fields that create almost a fishbowl of sound. When other people are picking their veggies or flowers, even if they’re chatting with someone quietly, right beside them, it’s guaranteed you’ll be able to hear every nuance of that conversation.

I have a feeling that’s why most people, if they don’t immediately enter a meditative state, reflexively lower their voices to a whisper when engaging in ‘pick-your-own.’ Because voices carry so easily and crisply, when they’re not there at all, silence bounces off of silence and it’s as if we’re in a sound-proof booth.

The totality of the experience is hard to describe but easy to lose oneself in.

Early Season Jewels – Photo: L. Weikel

Reverie

The coneflower, also known as Echinacea, was a mecca for the pollinators. Oh my goodness, it was such a delight to see all manner of bees, butterflies, and other winged ones imbibing.

At one point it dawned on me that I was the last person standing in the middle of that field. The only sounds I heard were the sudden screeches of crows that were hounding a red-tailed hawk. Hawk didn’t take the strong but silent route, either. It scree’d its indignation right back at them as it took up residence in a massive oak at the edge of the field.

Almost all the flowers were covered with pollinators. I couldn’t bear to pick the vast majority of them. And indeed, when one of the employees came out to the field (not sure if they were looking for me or what), I shared with them some of the other prizes I was harvesting – my photos.

The Spirits of this Place know that the manner in which these vegetables, fruits, flowers, and other plants are being cared for is sacred. The reverence creates a palpable refuge for all Beings seeking nurturing, nourishment, and peace.

(T-139)

Deluge – Day 971

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Raining into the pit – Photo: L. Weikel

Deluge

The disparities in our climate conditions across our country are growing every day. I can’t believe the west is expected to be trapped under yet another ‘heat dome’ this weekend. Of course, as oppressive and debilitating as those temperatures are, they’re made even worse by the lack of water. And yet here we are in Pennsylvania experiencing major rains and even a deluge last night.

Which comes first? The drought or the hellish temperatures? I don’t know – but I do know it seems like the impact of climate change is unfolding all around us at a cataclysmic rate.

Rain water from last night’s deluge – Photo: L. Weikel

What Fell From the Sky?

When I woke up this morning the evidence that we’d had a wild night of torrential storms and rain was everywhere. Leaves and branches stripped off trees. Limbs and entire trees blocking roads and taking out electrical wires and cables.

I’ve been emptying our fire pit of the water that collects in it after each storm. It’s a convenient pluviometer, albeit not as accurate as more conventional rain gauges. Sometimes, however, quantity isn’t the only quality being measured.

Which leads me to this morning’s discovery. Take a look at the water that accumulated in the two small coolers I’d left outside last night. It almost looks like strong tea or tobacco juice. It’s in both coolers. There were no tree branches or anything else above either of the containers – only clear sky. Nor were either of them near any drainage spouts.

And then I looked at the fire pit. Good grief! What in the world feel from the sky last night? The water in that fire pit was opaque. And the fire pit had been completely empty at the start of the evening. Not a flake of ash nor any leftover rain from the last storm.

This was bone dry before I went to bed last night – Photo: L. Weikel

Troubling

I’m wondering in all seriousness about the color of our rainfall last night. Why in the world did it range from golden brown to walnut black? And did it fall from the sky that way? It sure seems like it did.

To give context, I’ve included at the beginning of this post a photo of rain falling into the fire pit exactly one month ago (June 8th). The difference in the color of the water falling from the sky is obvious.

I wonder if this has any significance whatsoever. It sure doesn’t feel right.

(T-140)

Something’s Wrong – Day 970

Posted on by Lisa Weikel Leave a comment
Red-shouldered Woodpecker Fledgling – Photo: L. Weikel

Something’s Wrong

Well, there’s a title that gives you absolutely no clue as to what I might be writing about tonight, eh? No, I’m not going to go all political on you, although I’m sure most of you can guess how I feel about the current state of voting rights in our country; or the prospect of Pennsylvania hosting the next absurd fraudit a la Arizona. No, the title of my post tonight is heralding my concern that something’s wrong with our birds. Something’s killing and maiming our feathered family members.

I first heard about this mysterious disease that’s killing (or blinding or attacking the neurological system of) several species of birds from Washington D.C. to Pennsylvania back around June 22nd. At the time, and even a week later when I mentioned it in a post and linked to this article, I fervently hoped the disease wouldn’t show up in Pennsylvania.

Alas, it’s here.

But Not In My Backyard

When I say “it’s here,” I mean it’s here in Bucks County. Sadly, I believe as of yesterday the last count of the affliction reflected that it’s been discovered in 61 of Pennsylvania’s 67 counties. That’s not good.

I’m relieved to add that I’ve not seen any evidence of the mysterious malady in the birds here on our property. I’ve been watching my feeders and birds like a hawk (not unlike the Red-shouldered Hawk that’s been mighty talkative and hungry lately), looking for signs of it. But it worries me that all twelve species that have been known to contract the malady are part of our family. All of them have been seen at one time or another at or near our property.

I’ll admit it: I’ve felt conflicted. Everybody showing up at our feeders consistently appear in fine fettle (which gives me hope). And with the Brood X cicadas no longer around, there’s far less between-meal snacking. My babies (and their babies) are hungry. The fledges are fluttering their wings in excitement and taking their brave first flights all to land at empty feeders.

But I’ve allowed the feeders to become empty and am enduring the dirty looks and indignant chitter chatter some of my goldfinches, in particular, seem to be aiming in my direction.

Conflicting Reports

Some articles seem to indicate the disease appears to be slowing down. Others are freaked out over a dramatic increase in cases here in Pennsylvania from late last week to just after the 4th of July holiday.

The bottom line is that I don’t want to risk playing a game of chicken with my songbirds. I’m not refilling my feeders. I’m going to wash them out over the weekend with the 1:10 bleach to water concoction recommended by the Pennsylvania Game Commission and keep an eye on the research results of the wildlife professionals.

It’s worrisome that they still haven’t figured out what caused this outbreak – or what, exactly, is the underlying issue.

In the meantime, I’m throwing some seed and peanuts across the lawn in a wide arc so they’re not congregating near any feeders. I love my babies and I don’t want anything to happen to them.

(T-141)

Stuff of Nightmares – Day 969

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Wassup? – 17 year Brood X Cicada – Photo: L. Weikel

Stuff of Nightmares

I don’t know about you, but I’m missing the whirring purr of the Brood X 17-year cicadas that emerged from the ground in droves this past May. As of today, I didn’t hear the distinctive call of a single periodical cicada. The silence made me sad. As I’ve said before, the whirr emitted from the males’ tympanae mesmerized me. And the occasional <clang clang clang> reminiscent of one of those wind up stuffed monkeys with cymbals would interject unexpected color to the otherworldly hum. I loved it all. Two days ago, though, I heard the high pitched screech of an annual cicada. Only a few hours later I discovered an article that is the stuff of nightmares.

Turns out the stars of these nightmares feast only on annual cicadas. I’d say they haven’t acquired a taste for the 17-year brood, but it’s more likely that they simply haven’t had a chance to try that flavor.

Brood X Cicadas Swirling in the Sunlight – 23June2021 – Photo: L. Weikel

Cast of Characters

In order to avoid any confusion in this entymologically-heady discussion, permit me to identify the cast of characters about which I’m writing.

The 17 year Brood X periodical cicadas

These are the ones that emerged in our area in May of this year. After munching on the roots of bazillions of trees in our area for the past 17 years, they burrowed to the surface, shed their exoskeletons, and then engaged in some intense, red-eyed, cacophonous mating rituals. The males, of course, were the attention-seeking noise-makers. The females, after selecting and allowing their mates to have their way with them, laid their eggs in slits in the bark of deciduous trees. They conked out shortly thereafter. Toward the end of July, those eggs will develop into pupae that will drop to the ground and burrow into the dirt, ready to latch onto the roots of their home trees and go through 5 stages of metamorphosis over the next 17 years, only to re-emerge in 2038.

As we pretty much all learned this year, Nature’s survival strategy for these periodic cicadas was to unleash vast waves of these creatures upon the environment. So many emerged from the ground that their predators essentially ate until they made themselves sick of cicadas. Birds, dogs, snakes, you name it: it was All-U-Can-Eat Cicada Summer ’21.

Annual Cicadas

Also known as ‘Dog-day Cicadas,’ these are the larger, very green cousins of those that emerge after 17 years of underground recon. These cicadas are the ones that we hear every year – the very high pitched buzz that starts slow but builds to a piercing whine – starting when the weather becomes oppressive, usually in July and definitely in August. Those hot, muggy days are known as the ‘dog days’ of summer, but the cicadas’ name also derives from the fact that the so-called ‘Dog Star,’ Sirius, is distinctly visible in the night sky during this time of year. You an always tell when summer is settling in and getting long in the tooth when the cicadas start their droning.

It’s interesting that the so-called ‘annual’ cicadas do not arrive on the scene, have rampant sex, and then die – all of a piece in one single season. No. The annuals cicadas are rather erroneously named, since they live an average of 2-6 years. They’re definitely the far less flashy and dramatic of the species.

Possible Cicada Killer – Photo: L. Weikel

Cicada Killers

These are the creatures I referred to above as the stuff of nightmares. Follow this link and take a look at these beasts. Those are some nasty looking flying artillery. But honestly? Even worse is the description of what these cicada killers do to their prey. It’s hideously awful. They essentially drug one of the big Dog-day lugs and frantically drag it into the array of tunnels it created in its barely weeks-long life span. And there, rather horrifically, these cicada killers cannibalize over time the annual cicadas they’ve drugged, but haven’t actually killed. Yet.

It sounds like a horrible way to go.

The only good news, I suppose, is that these so-called cicada killers won’t sting us with their massive stingers unless actively provoked. Nah – they’d rather save that anesthetic for their cicada slaves that they stuff into their basements for their nymphs to feast off of for months. Ew.

It’s quite a world out there.

Sirius – but in the winter – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-143)

Crone Calling – Day 968

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Photo: L. Weikel

Crone Calling

Or should I say, “Calling all Crones?” No, even though I embrace my personal status as a Crone (and therefore prefer to capitalize it), I’m not writing this post as a rallying cry solely to my sisters. Rather, I’m excited to announce that there’s a crone calling all of us right now in the form of a brand spanking new, hot off the presses, limited run of 250 Tarot of the Crone decks.

I’ve written many posts (here, here, and here, for instance) in the past 967 days that make reference to my much-loved Tarot of the Crone by Ellen Lorenzi-Prince. These cards always seem to bring an eerily accurate message when I consult them. And beyond whatever intuitive sense I may receive from the cards when I choose them – based simply on either the image itself or my pretty limited knowledge of tarot in general – the narrative provided by the deck’s creator is uncanny.

The exciting news I’m sharing today is that the deck, which has been out of print for a couple of years, I believe, is now available for pre-order.

Guidance for the Coming New Moon

Naturally, then, it feels only fitting that I consult the Crone for some guidance or insight on what to keep in mind as we approach this new moon in Cancer. Again – fundamental beliefs and structures are being challenged. Institutions we thought would always be part of our lives either no longer are or are on their way out. And we’re being asked to contemplate what we want to seed in their place.

As I write these words, I’ve not yet ‘picked.’ So I have no idea whether we’ll be given guidance on what is or needs to be ‘blown up’ (metaphorically, of course), radically changed, or suddenly exposed, or whether we’ll be shown what is waiting in the wings to be seeded as the structure or foundation of the next phase of our lives.

How and What I Chose

I decided to go a little rogue on all of us and instead of just choosing one card (and taking note of the card at the bottom of the deck – giving foundation or context to the ‘top’ card), I decided to pick three cards. The first card for insight into our ‘Saturn’ (i.e., the underlying, fundamental beliefs or structures that operate in our lives that need to be examined, perhaps challenged, and possibly torn down); the second card for insight into our ‘Uranus’ (i.e., how or in what way can or will sudden illumination strike or challenge that Saturn; how or in what area might we benefit from radical transformation); and the third card for insight into what seeds might be planted where the old foundations or beliefs we held (or were told) used to be.

Saturn – Uranus – Seed(s)

  1. (Representing Saturn): Ten of Disks ~ Age

    Ten of Disks – Tarot of the Crone by Ellen Lorenzi-Prince

“My world is smaller

But my soul is not

My world is harder

But I survive

A figure with knobby knees and a sunken aged face sits with her thoughts in a throne-like chair. As the body is the root of life, age is the result. Hers is the voice of experience and the understanding of physical limitations. She may be valued for her wisdom, but her no-nonsense views often set her apart and keep her alone. Like her, know that life occurs mostly inside you. Value your own experience and the wisdom of your body.”

 

 

 

 

  1. (Representing Uranus): Witch of Cups ~ Siren

    “Where the waves dance

    Where the stars and tides align

    There I celebrate my passion

    There I abandon restraint

    There I create movement

    That will last a thousand years

    A red figure, whose body echoes the curl of the purple waves around her, reaches with them for the stars that arch overhead. The Siren flows with the power of water to move and transform. She draws to her what she desires from the strength of her own desire, like calling out to like to join in the dance. She sings with the power to carry you away to worlds where love reigns, souls merge and blood, the juice of your life, runs full and free.”

  2. (Representing the Seeds to be Planted): Nine of Disks ~ Community

Nine of Disks – Tarot of the Crone by Ellen Lorenzi-Prince

“Together we build

Home for us all

Nine homes with open doors are gathered on a rich brown hillside beneath a field of stars. Here connection reaches farther than family. It is not so personal a relationship, but it is quite as necessary. There are others who share your air, your earth, your dreams and there always will be. Each one is part of the whole. Acknowledge the endeavors that support your living. Consider your own contribution. The antidote to isolation is sharing. How do you want to touch this world?”

Food For Thought

The connection of each card with each ‘subject’ is fascinating to me. As is always true, we each bring to the table our own unique set of life circumstances and perspectives to interpreting the message of each card.

I invite you to sit with each card. Notice how you feel when you simply look at the image; then notice and pay attention to the words written by the deck’s creator. Which words jump out at you – and how do they make you feel?

Allow yourself to contemplate (and dare I suggest – write out in a journal?) a coherent message between the cards. Remember, Saturn (structure) being challenged by Uranus (transformation) could indicate that in order to achieve transformation we may need to bring more structure to our lives. Cultivate a secure environment in which to plant those new seeds.

In other words, don’t assume that Uranus always means things need to get flipped upside down and inside out. They could just need to be radically changed. And that can (almost certainly will) look completely different for each one of us.

Have fun with this. It’s time to shake stuff up one way or another. We might as well be active and conscious participants in the reshaping of our lives, don’t you think?

Finally, don’t forget to order your own Tarot of the Crone deck if you feel an affinity with these cards!

(T-143)

New Moon Approaching – Day 967

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New Moon Approaching – Photo: astrologyally.com

New Moon Approaching

As we allow this post-holiday second week of July to play itself out, I’m reminded that there’s a new moon approaching that will arrive this Friday evening at 9:16 p.m. EDT. As always, because a new moon (also known as the dark moon) is exactly conjunct the Sun, then whatever sign the sun is in, the moon is too. Thus, this will be a Cancer new moon because the Sun is in Cancer too.

Please forgive me if my explanation is too basic for you. But for the longest time, I never really paid attention to the technicalities of what makes a moon new or full, or what a conjunction, opposition, square, or trine of planets (and the luminaries: Sun and Moon) means. And even after all the books I’ve read, readings I’ve had, and podcasts I’ve listened to, I still need to stop and think about it. So when I’m moved to write about astrological stuff in my posts, I like to explain it as best as I can so you can visualize it.

Thus experiencing a new moon this Friday evening means both the Moon and the Sun are in the sign of Cancer. And among other attributes, Cancer is the sign in which the Moon is very much at home. It’s a sign that is intimately connected to our emotions, nurturing, care and compassion – and the concepts of family and home.

As with all new moons, it marks a new beginning. The time of a new moon is the best and most powerful time to plant the seeds of new ideas or ways of being, start new jobs, begin new projects, strike out on fresh new adventures, and set powerful intentions.

Other Players, Too

As I’ve written about a number of times already (and linked to a number of astrologers who’ve explained it a lot better than I can even synopsize), this year’s theme, if you will, has been centered on Saturn ‘squaring’ Uranus. In point of fact, these two massive planets exactly square each other three times in 2021. The second of these three exact squares was on June 14th, and the final square will occur on December 23rd.

Saturn is the planet associated with rules, foundations, laws, patriarchy, the ‘way things have always been done,’ and structure.

It’s also associated with shame and ‘shoulds,’ which kind of makes sense. If we don’t follow the rules or do things the way they’ve always been done (or the way we’ve been told), then those in a position of power to punish or judge us can heap guilt or shame on our heads. It’s important to note here that we hold the power of shame and guilt over our own selves – just as much as any external authority can wield it against us.

In the wider world, Saturn can represent the foundations of society, our government, ‘The Law,’ hierarchies of power, etc.

As I mentioned, Saturn is squaring (or another way of looking at it is challenging or provoking) the planet of Uranus pretty much all year, but we had a direct ‘hit’ on June 14th and we’re still feeling the effects of that because these outer planets move so slowly. Uranus is associated with radical transformation, sudden illumination, explosive shifts or changes in perspective and is often depicted in association with lightning. When these two planets are in square aspect to each other, it’s not hard to see where this could lead.

My Feeling

I have to laugh when I write ‘my feeling,’ since the sign of Cancer is all about feelings. But it feels to me as if this new moon is asking us to acknowledge those places in our lives where some major shaking of foundations has taken place – and to decide how and what we want to start building anew. What seeds do we want to plant that will replace those old structures, foundations, beliefs, or stories that we told ourselves (and based our lives upon) that have essentially been shaken or, in some cases, struck by lightning and blown up.

It feels really important that we all give ourselves the chance to sit quietly, take stock and honestly look at what has left us or fallen down or away in our lives over the past six months (representing the first two of the three squares of Saturn and Uranus).

And we need to ask ourselves: what do we want to plant after we clear away the rubble? It feels especially important for us to pay attention to our emotions as we engage in this reflection. What do we want to feel as we move forward? Who will we consider to be our ‘family?’ What do family and the foundations family represents mean to us moving forward?

I’m mentioning this now because the new moon isn’t until Friday. I don’t know about you, but I need a few days to really sit with this and make some choices.

(T-144)

Giant Silk Moth – Day 966

Posted on by Lisa Weikel Leave a comment
Giant Silk Moth – Close-up – Photo: L. Weikel

Giant Silk Moth

What an amazing discovery! M & T discovered this Giant Silk Moth earlier today, hanging out on one of their cedar trees. Technically known (but only to its most intimate familiars) as Hyalophora Cecropia, this gorgeous creature is somewhere within its vast two week adulthood.

That’s right. The world is graced with this beauty for a grand total of two weeks. And that’s only if it’s lucky enough not to be gobbled by a squirrel or some other predator.

The reason for its startlingly short span of glory is the somewhat disturbing fact that it has neither mouthparts that work nor a digestive system. I’m guessing this is nature’s way of bringing it into balance with the rest of the ecosystem after it devoured lots of leaves during its caterpillar stages. (And yes, it goes through a couple of caterpillar stages.)

It seems our winged beauty is destined to live a brief but intense adulthood comprised of being the fairest of them all, fluttering about in the magnificence of summer, releasing pheromones that attract suitors from miles around, having lots of sex, laying hundreds of eggs…and then shedding their mortal coil. And they do all of that without a bite to eat.

It’s a life cycle that engenders some contemplation.

Giant Silk Moth – Perspective – Photo: L. Weikel

Common – Really?

In the description of our friend Cecropia, it’s said that these massive moths (the largest in North America) are common. That’s hard to believe. How could something so amazing have escaped my perception all these years if it’s ‘common?’ Surely I need to hone my observation skills if this is the case.

I think I may recognize the stage of its life in which it’s a little black caterpillar. But I can’t be sure.

I’m just delighted that this one was discovered and I got the chance to admire it. Its tremendously lovely wings are obviously designed to ward off predators that might not want to tangle with an owl or whatever creature’s eyes the moth’s wings are supposed to look like. But even its body is gorgeous in its intricate perfection – not to mention the feathery antennae so adept at picking up those irresistible pheromones the females are known to float upon the ethers. Temptresses!

But it’s interesting to consider that their greatest beauty (at least in the eyes of us humans) are the equivalent of our 15 minutes of fame. They have two weeks. Fourteen days of amazing life spent doing all the things that Giant Silk Moths do – which escapades do not include eating.

Perhaps they’re too busy anyway.

Hyalophora cecropia – Playing Peekaboo – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-145)