LuceStellare

November Days

A tranquil day in late November is passing. When was the last Sunday where the only place to be is at home? How lovely is quiet. Not another human voice sounded near. Only the song of nuthatches, chickadee and blue-jay chirping in the trees. The garden faded to brown and it’s time to trim out the sea oats. The sun is so kindly on the grass that the beach chair came out one more time. When again will bare feet feel warmed by the air. After the pause, I came back to this chore and found my cat decided this was the best place to be. She does think everything is for her already. Sweetie snuggled into the open patch and appeared so dazzled by the brilliant sun, I didn’t have the heart to chase her out. There’s always more pruning elsewhere.

Now is evening. The street lights have not come on, they are out of sync with the time change. It is very dark out in the street. Small lights from the neighbors house appear out the window but the blackness is a cloak of comfort keeping people out there. It is the eve of the full moon in November. All the leaves are not yet fallen. The brilliant ochre and mustard colored maple leaves cling to the branches. No wind today. No cold in the air. A day to remember we are now seven years in this old house. Our little tranquil place near the river. We can see it now through the trees, glittering in the light, moving quietly along. We can hear the turkeys clucking and scratching in the briar patch. What lies ahead? How will we pass our days? It is all happiness to be together. St Francis was scented with incense in homage to his steadfast gaze out into our tender glade.

The time has come for cooking sweet potato and cranberry. The shadows come early each afternoon. The peach tree rests again. No fruit this year. Not a single peach in all of Massachusetts. I wish I’d never trimmed it when young. Don’t listen when an arborist says prune here, cut there and force it down. Let it grow out. Let the limbs go where they will, stop trying to shape a tree to advantage. Sweetie sits under it now, gazing out into the field. The squirrels are subdued today too. There’s not much stirring except one solitary white butterfly that emerged from the compost pile. Why do I do things that take me away from here? There is contentment in this place. My little home at the edge of town. The blessed sleeping trees. A day rest. A day of plenty.

Full Harvest Moon in October

The lunar year rolls into the 2^nd full harvest moon of autumn. This is the moon of the falling leaves. Alternatively, moon when ducks fly. It is certainly a high point in the cardinal sign of Libra. In Massachusetts, we have had a first frost. The orchards are full of apple and pear. The cornstalks are ready to come down. Pumpkins and gourds decorate the front porch.

Remember that despite all our trappings of humanity, we were once prey and more connected to our earth. At this time of year, a sense of restlessness is something our ancestors would have felt keenly. We watch the birds flock and fly to winter grounds. Deer herd together for protection. There is safety in numbers. Animals have their own travel paths often unnoticed by our eyes. I recall coming upon a line of critters one morning passing through a neighborhood on the way to somewhere else. The raccoon, possum and deer walked softly along purposefully headed to their next destination. They walked together in a single file. How rare was this moment! We build houses and streets cutting across ancient travel lanes. We were once closer to the earth and sky. The critters remind us that it is time to move to winter grounds. Listen to the mice scratching behind the wall in the night, they know where to build a safe nest for the long cold ahead.

Watching the phases of the moons is a way to connect to the stars. There is some lovely folklore based on when a person was born in the moon cycle. Click on this link to Astrocal for self-discovery on your phase and what that means for you. Have fun and remember we are stardust

Bob Dylan – Nobel Prize in Literature

A big rave for Mr. Robert Allen Zimmerman from Duluth, Minnesota. The Nobel prize in Literature has been awarded to Bob Dylan. What an honor and so well deserved. An innovative and original American singer-songwriter, artist, writer, and now Nobel Laureate. What an extraordinary life. A hero from childhood. Well done to an authentic American hero.

A favorite – Love Minus Zero/No Limit

My love, she speaks like silence
Without ideals or violence
She doesn’t have to say she’s faithful
Yet she’s true like ice, like fire
People carry roses
And make promises by the hour
My love she laughs like the flowers
Valentines can’t buy her

In the dime stores and bus stations
People talk of situations
Read books, repeat quotations
Draw conclusions on the wall
Some speak of the future
My love, she speaks softly
She knows there’s no success like failure
And that failure’s no success at all

The cloak and dagger dangles
Madams light the candles
In ceremonies of the horsemen
Even the pawn must hold a grudge
Statues made of matchsticks
Crumble into one another
My love winks she does not bother
She knows too much to argue or to judge
The bridge at midnight trembles
The country doctor rambles
Bankers’ nieces seek perfection
Expecting all the gifts that wise men bring
The wind howls like a hammer
The night wind blows cold n’ rainy
My love, she’s like some raven
At my window with a broken wing

Bob Dylan 1965

Here is YouTube recording made in London 1965. I do believe that is Donovan we see at the beginning of this video. A little scruffy, a little off-key but the brilliance is unmatched.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9w1mCevu3sU