Under the November Sun

Florida always delivers on an amazing sunset. Her nature is unique, offering temperate and enjoyable weather as winter rolls in. Winters in Florida can be utterly beautiful.

 

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The birds that soar over the waves are migratory and natives. The air sings with promise, and the chilly sea breeze carries a mystical note reminding me of the necessity of stopping for a moment to enjoy what Nature is placing before me..

 

 

To remember

What is it to hold memories? What is it we feel when stepping silently among the graves of people who once felt what we feel, who once loved as we love?

As the light half of the year is nearly gone, I seek the spirit of truth among the trees. I seek the enlightenment, the means to remember the calling that stitches itself to the strands of my DNA.

The need for flight and otherwordly observation is budding within a body which longs for transcendence, longs for a memory of where she’s been.

Mysteries are buried in the stone, and it’s a difficult thing, ignoring the fluttering of thoughts jumbled together within a mind trying for solitude. The dead offer peace, tranquil cerulean dreams. I seek within the shades of the earth, and find myself attached to this meaning.

The meaning between Life and Death and everything woven within.

And Then September Crept In…

August flew by at an alarming rate. And it was an uncharacteristically cool August the first couple of weeks, which usually never happens. The Earth’s cycles seem to be changing. It’s a secretive and subtle change, but I can feel it. Even in the Florida heat, I can feel it.

The first two weeks brought the rain storms. I’m hoping the remaining hurricane season is lazy. But the whole month of August was a quick one, albeit with low pressure systems lazing about in the tropics; not the kind of lazy I wanted.

Hurricane Hermine hit as a Cat 1 early last Friday morning. Even though it was a lazy hurricane by Andrew’s, Katrina’s, and Ivan’s standards, it still left a hell of a mess. We were without power for four days; some parts–especially where the eye came ashore–were completely washed out. Lovely St. Petersburg had a hell of a storm surge. Some places up to seven feet.

But as us Floridians know intimately, cleanup commences and life goes on. Only two more months of hurricane season then we can let out our breaths.

But August was a memorable month…

My little fireling started kindergarten this year, and before the start of school we were crafting and playing and creating. Those first two weeks of August gave us comfort and the underlying feeling of change over the horizon. My little girl would be starting a new journey, as would I. The time we’d had those first two weeks of August felt almost like it was in-between, holding still, and hanging in the breeze we were so much enjoying. I could smell opportunity in the wind.

We celebrated our Ancestors during Lughnasadh as we made bread and fruit salads. We crafted wands, lanterns, faery houses, and we planted new garden babies.

I spent some time with my mother and discovered an unlikely friend in gardening right down the road. I was welcomed into his garden and was gifted with a beautiful bounty. Lemongrass, mints, three varieties of spinach, baby papaya trees, and patchouli for Spirit journeys through Earth. I’ll be visiting him again soon, with ideas of writing a bio on him and a story about his garden and apiary.

And here we are into September already, recuperating after Hermine, falling into the rhythm of Florida fall. Last night’s moon is a reminder that all things turn and change, ebb and flow, constrict and contract.

As for now, I have much to keep me busy. I’ve got a few students whom I’ve been tutoring, a couple of writing contracts, and too many plants that require daily conversations and TLC.

The light half of the year is so close to the end of its cycle, the Autumnal Equinox is right around the corner, and the Celtic new year to follow. So count your blessings, make room for more, and welcome joy into your home. 🙂

Lughnasadh Blessings

Florida fall is officially here…for me, anyway. It’s an uncharacteristically cool August, bringing fall breezes that offer relief from the heat of the sun. The cycle is ever turning, ever calling us to stand still and absorb all that is going on.

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Lughnasadh had us baking bread and mixing fruit salads, harvesting mint and lemonbalm and thyme, and making sun tea. We played and crafted seashell windchimes, homemade paints and chalks, and faery dwellings in the gardens. It’s truly been a beautiful, albeit quickly passing, summer. My little one starts kindergarten in a week; we’re excited and bittersweet about this next journey in our lives. But she’ll do great.

 

 

I wandered St. Pete over the weekend and stumbled upon an unlikely plant nursery; I’ve found a friend and fellow naturalist who makes his food from what he harvests from his garden. A beekeeper and yogi, he’s become my go-to for honey, herbs, and fruiting plants. I’ve brought back honey and spinach, lemongrass and mints. I’ve even brought home a lovely little patchouli plant just for Spirit workings. When I visit again in September, I’ll be asking some more questions with hopes of writing a piece about him and his garden and apiary.

 

But with the cyclic changes and the ever-nearing dark half of the year, I’ve been standing as if I’m on the brink of change. A very specific and benevolent change. The wind brings smells of the promise of autumn, and I can’t help but be eager to see what this next season will bring.

As always, keep dreaming, keep creating, and always welcome life’s blessings. 🙂

St. John’s River

There’s just something about Florida rivers. The lazy meandering of hidden currents, the tranquil relief the waters offer at the end of an extraordinarily hot day.

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The spirits of the rivers of Florida aren’t ordinarily sought out, but they’re no less potent than Ocean, Great Lake, or Sea; the soft drifting melody of the river’s voice is enough to cleanse and renew just as a wild tempest sea roaring ashore in crashing waves.

This I came to love about Florida’s rivers: that calm surface hiding worlds of knowledge just beneath, a surface smooth as glass, reflecting the earth and sky above it.

Response to the Daily Post Daily Prompt–Glass