nom de bomb
a bodacious blizzard
polar front at Stop And Shop —
chips and dips sold out
sushi meets snow
a polar vortex name
grows in Brooklyn
weather front matchup:
Bombogenesis vs Blizzard
bombshell meets blizzard
a tad bit staid
for a storm name
© ag ~ 2018
WOW — We begin the new calendar year on a full moon — The Wolf Moon.
Wolves howl more during their breeding season in January and February. The iconic image of a wolf with head held high letting loose and a huge ivory moon in the background is a familiar one. Without getting all metaphysical here, maybe it’s a good time for us to face the moon and howl a bit. Or croon or converse with the moon. I believe that the moon listens. And sometimes, that’s all one needs. As I age, it’s less and less about making a new year resolution, (a firm decision to do or not do something or to solve a problem), and more and more about loosening, letting go, flowing or unfolding.
The late great poet and humanitarian John O’Donohue stated it so wonderfully:
“I would love to live life as a river flows, carried by the surprise of its own unfolding.”
Howling at the full moon — just letting it rip — may surprise and satisfy that very part of us connected to the mystery and ancient thread of our evolving/our unfolding. Actually, how different is it really from a bunch of people gazing upward and screaming at a glistening orb atop a skyscraper in New York City on a cold night of the year? I always thought spending New Years Eve (and full day) in Times Square just another nutty City thing to do (insane, if I’m really being honest). However, maybe not so whacko after all. Maybe it’s just a modern version/expression of our wolf nature connected to that ancient thread. Happy Wolf Moon!
lentils at midnight for good luck a nod to my heritage
© ag ~ January 2018
John Burroughs said it best: “Harvest with a quiet eye.”
Every morning and every evening, I am serenaded by a very resolute songbird. He/she is perched on a low hanging wire directly outside a window over my kitchen sink. Since I wash all my dishes by hand, from dawn to dusk, I am treated to this small bird’s boisterous concerto for what seems like forever, and long after all the other songbirds have quieted and moved on to their daily chores. Its song is a repetitive two-note high pitch that contrasts with the deep lushness of early summer green behind it. I believe the bird is a Red-Eyed Vireo whose voice fills its whole being from beak to tail tip. And from a far-off somewhere else, is the return song… another Vireo answering the call.
I am lucky to be surrounded by woods and fields and awakened at the high point of songbirds in our area as early as 4:45 AM. No need to set an alarm when the windows are open and light breezes blowing. I consider this a blessing, as it lasts only a few short weeks after the solstice, when the daylight begins to dwindle ever so imperceptibly, and birds that migrate leave nests behind taking their songs with them.
This little guy/gal and I are linked in a daily routine when washing dishes is no longer a chore but a sweet beginning and ending to summer love.
call and response from the woods yet another harvest
storms of tweets
somehow Stella makes the storm more neighborly
sometimes it takes a storm to bake cookies
almost forsythia a little rain a little snow
imagine simmering pots of fragrant words
cabbage and beans
a garden celebration
of rustic stars
letting go letting g letting lettin lett let
I hate dusting! I’m okay with housecleaning, and I hand wash dishes every day. However, when it comes to dusting, I usually find an excuse to back off like a kid being offered cod liver oil. I usually tend to be seduced by taking photos of dust mites, roses drying on their stems, pillows-on-fire or the dog who resignedly puts up with my in-her-face antics. Anything but dragging a rag over furniture. Thankfully I’m never too concerned with it until you can finger and linger a date on the countertop. All this as a segue into some “let’s capture-the-light-photos.”
lengthening light my muse calls time out!
Yesterday — there was a solar eclipse and a new moon + a lot of other planets’ energy mixing it up and duking it out. Chaos as a game changer. Yesterday, in a rare Hollywood-like-made-for-the-moment-alignment of cosmic humor at the Academy Awards, the winner for best picture (highlight of the show) was named incorrectly and quickly repealed. Chaos and comedy. As it is above – so it is below.
Disclaimer: I did not watch the show nor have I seen either film, however I read enough about each movie to understand that they are complete opposites on the reality-scope meter. That the Hollywood throw-back fantasy musical movie La La Land was misnamed as best picture and rescinded for the real winner Moonlight, about the gritty life of a black man who grows up in a street-drug culture and loves another man in an unforgiving neighborhood, is simply an amazing mixup and yet entirely understandable in the context of the astral energy. Life never fails to entertain or annoy depending on one’s choice of view. Same can be said for the Academy Awards show itself.
This is the next to the last of my daily posts for mindful writing and daily haiku during January and February. In a chaotic fake news-political year, it is a fitting ending on the entertainment scale as well. What I believe is missing from view on all fronts is that there are no real winners or losers — just different choices. In the end, out of chaos comes creativity – the true measure of success.
agita at the Oscars La La Moonlight
fake news at The Oscars can you believe it?
solar eclipse new moon
enjoy or annoy
And from last year’s haiku:
the dance between
fickle and moonset