Myth For My Tale Bone

The smell of melting cheese chases the wind through the cracks in the wagon door, big gusts are predicted here on the Salish island. In case we lose power, we get things done before hand. We have had breakfast (oatmeal and nettles thick with slices of ripe bananas, a dollop of sunflower seed butter and a stream of maple syrup). Yummy! Fueled, Pete took over the stove and began heating water for dishes. It's a many step intensive routine -- dish washing, and a dance within a small space that is testament to a man who can move. The cheese is the thing. Sent to him from his older sister, Margaret, Pete's kinship with Wisconsin dairies is long bred; the man does love the pungent cheese. To hear him talk of his experiences with cheese -- Farmer's cheese, a soft and mild, breakfast; Limburger kept on the back porch; the extra-powerful forearms of his neighbors who worked the cheese and were sought after for your bowling team-- is to know some of what makes him. A single r

The morning temperature was moderate, warm in comparison to last week's snow. I am living with a virus that changes as it tenders its way through me first with a cough that starts only after I lay me down to sleep; and then this morning, I was better because I slept through the night. Pete slept as I took inventory in our kitchen: dishes were washed -- I could fill the old turquoise fry pan; parsnips, and a purple potato from the food bank, half a red onion, cloves of garlic, a bag of frozen yellow corn, olive oil and a packet of ground turkey. Something good could come of all of these ingredients. In our world, one of my jobs is cooking, a job I love and am happy to do. When I am sick from a bug like this one or down with the effects of environmental illness, feeding us falls to Pete; one more thing adds to my partner's load.Living close to town where all the services we need and use are within walking distance or a very short drive, shopping for a meal is easier. Ease is no

Hansel and Gretel A few weeks ago a woman I know through my travels and engagement with astrology online left a comment on a thread we were both chewing (and commenting) on. I suggested it might be helpful to find ways to feed her tale bone. Her reply was hopeful (and probably curious), but, she said she needed some tips about the tale bone because google wasn't being cooperative. I led her here where she discovered the tale bone was a made up thing; come to think of it I've been making things up all my life. Naming things and giving people nicknames is genetic. My dad did it with everyone. The neighborhood and cousins were named after breakfast cereal and soda (Snap, and Crackle; Squeak and Squawk; Nola Bola CocaCola... ) And perhaps it's no accident, but a destiny-of- pairing thing to be partnered with someone who disassembles and reassembles words to suit his meaning. Astrologically, the naming of 'the tale bone' is one of those examples of Jupiter

 "It takes some people years to complete something others master in a day. What is the common thing? You get it done when you don’t stop trying. You. Don’t. Stop. Don’t stop now; you’re SO close..." Satori How coral grows: NOAA National Ocean Service Education We ventured out mid morning in a major downpour of Pacific Northwest rain to support and recognize a friend, and "long time local hero" in our South Whidbey Island community. The church and gathering place for this occasion was filled to overflowing with the church goers who come there often and a few of us who were there for our friend. We saw many people we know from the community, and enjoyed seeing the photo gallery of Leonard Good's influence as "an out of the box science teacher", artist and mentor to hundreds of young people over the decades. And, as Pete reminded me as we stepped from the car to walk toward the church a pair of Ravens fly above us, witnessing our effort

Draco, with Ursa Minor or the Little Dipper, as depicted in Urania’s Mirror, a set of constellation cards published in London c. 1825. I sit to write after waking just before (or was it after) midnight. It is newly 2020, two days old, a baby year. There was a dream needing to be washed with light, different images and nourishment; a bowl of nettles and oatmeal porridge with butter and maple syrup did the trick. And a new post makes the magic happen. 2019 was cleared and unplugged for us here in the Pacific Northwest with unexpected snow in Seattle; and wind, rain and power outages on Whidbey Island. Metaphoric and mythically, New Year's Eve was for us a necessary conclusion to a very intense year. Pete and I fled a year of betrayals, shuns and sadness at the start of 2019, and though we were blessed with kind welcomes, as an antidote , a final, and elemental cleanse was necessary ... and Lono the elemental god of Earth's atmosphere, did his work. As metaphor, unplug