Go by Jonsi: The Music of Spring

Is this real paint or Photoshop?

Even if you're not already a fan of Jonsi via Sigur Ros I highly recommend giving at least some of these breathtakingly beautiful songs a listen. Whether it be a fast paced, sometimes frenetic song like Go Do, the breakneck craziness of Animal Arithmetic or a mellow emotional song like Grow Till Tall or Tornado each song seems to almost fly by as the ethereal qualities begin to overwhelm the listener. It's so good and so enjoyable that it makes one want to rush outside and breathe in all the wild growth of spring before it melts into summer.

There have always been naysayers who claim that a solo album from a front man of an already successful band will inevitably be watered down, weaker or only a slightly tweaked version of the original bands' music. And that's a valid critique, but not in this case. Yes, he sings in his haunting falsetto a lot, just like he does with Sigur Ros. And yes, the music is very good. But the similarities really end there. Go features much faster rhythms, heavier synthesizers, a lot more orchestral work,  less guitar and one other glaring difference between Go and the music of Sigur Ros.

Jonsi sings more than a little of the lyrics in English. It's English sung with a heavy, but not overpowering, Icelandic accent, granted. But it's beautiful and can be understood once the listener has gotten over the newness of the album and has learned how to listen to his pronunciations. I don't find it unpleasant at all to not always know exactly what he's singing about. In fact, it adds to the over all aesthetic, to the air of mystery and otherworldly quality. That said, the lyrics are beautiful so it's not a bad idea to look them up.

From Go Do:

Tie strings to clouds
Make your own lake - Let it flow
Throw seeds to sprout
Make your own break - Let them grow

And from Animal Arithmetic:

Every time, everyone, everything's full of life
Everyday, everywhere, people are so alive

I see you in the trees
I see you're colourful
I see you in the breeze
You're spiritful

Personally, I've officially recognized Go as the soundtrack of my springtime. In fact, I've become rather obsessed by it! Never before in my life have I been so eager for the warmth and growth of spring and this album encapsulates all the glory, wonder, beauty and sometimes heady pace of springtime. It's as if the spring flowers and awakening animals and I are racing at a feverish pace and this album is the music we are making.

I wanted to imbed the video for Go Do but YouTubers don't seem to want to share it and the Jonsi site features a huge video player that uglies up my template. So, go here to see the first fascinating video from Go.

Spring: Flowers, Critters and Blog Templates, etc.

Grape Hyacinths

So you may have noticed I've been playing with my template, backgrounds and stuff around here. What can I say? I recently got a nice, fully functioning, big ass monitor (from some great friends!!) and can now enjoy all the colors of the rainbow. Also, Blogger just unrolled their new Template Designer in Blogger in Draft and it is very nice. And fun. And addictive. But, more to the point (and there is one coming, just hold on) it's Spring!

All the warm weather critters are returning with the birds coming first. In fact, birds are returning in droves these days. We've had the mourning doves for about a week and their song is only second to the whip-poor-whil. Our local mockingbird returned a couple of days ago and, when he's close enough to a bedroom window, makes for an efficient and enjoyable alarm clock.   Every time I step outside I see more birds and even saw one squirrel which we don't often have around here. Haven't had a snake yet but it won't be long. The pond frogs have been serenading us for a few weeks now and it's truly glorious.

Lilacs and Tulips

There are spring flowers popping up all over in old and new places. We've got all of our expected things putting on a show but we've got a stray lilac or tulip here and there. Looks like our daffodils are done, the lilacs are still going and the tulips are just beginning to show off their rainbow of colors. All kinds of things are popping up: wild violas amongst the grass, gorgeous bright yellow dandelions and the wild rose bushes are putting out lots of growth. I can't wait to float in the pool and smell the gorgeousness of their scent waft over me. Warm weather can't come soon enough for me this year it seems. And I know why.

Now that my family situation is so much more healthy and happy than it was up until last fall I'm just looking so forward to life and living. My family was locked in a deep, dark hole for a long time, myself included. So I'm loving having freedom to have a life and friendships and goals and hopes to actually look toward.  I've been locked up too long. I, more or less voluntarily, did the hermit thing for nearly 30 years and spent the last two or three too scared to hardly ever leave the house. And now I'm done with that.  I'm stepping out of my cage.

I'm making new friends, pagan and non-pagans, left and right and, for the first time in my life, I'm actually enjoying hanging out with people. It's still a rough ride as my social skillz are pretty rusty but I'm having fun. And it's great. I'm drinking up the sun because the better times have arrived! If you have the means I highly recommend enjoying some beautiful weather and time outdoors and just plain 'ol good times with those you love. Enjoy the springtime, my fellow northern hemisphere residents,  for it comes but once a year!

Oh Man, It's an Omen

Once upon a time, when I was entering into a new and potentially risky venture, I saw an omen or a sign. Without sharing too many gory details I'll just say I had made a decision that I wasn't entirely confident about. Here comes the omen: As I turned off our road and set out in earnest on this new path I saw a fox run away from the fence line and toward the woods on my left. At the same time an owl flew away from the fence line and flew toward the woods on my right. I told myself that this was a sign that I was making the right decision and that my doubts and concerns would prove to be unfounded.

I was wrong. My doubts and concerns were very much warranted. To be fair, I don't completely regret taking that risk. I had some good times and learned a lot about myself, about interpersonal relationships and life in general. I also learned a lot about pain and regret and guilt. So, it was perhaps an invaluable learning experience but also probably the second most painful time period in my life. If I had been a little less selfish I would have taken the opposite interpretation of the omen seriously. Or maybe I did but quickly discounted it.

They say hindsight is 20/20. And this is no more true than when speaking of omens. The above example is just one of the omens I've seen and either didn't recognize or interpreted incorrectly because I didn't take the time to think, meditate and perhaps research them. I know better now. If it strikes me on an emotional level I know the universe or the spirits of the land or the gods are trying to tell me something. This is especially true when I see something I've never seen before. I see it now and I know it.

To be fair, not all odd occurrences are necessarily omens. Sometimes a bird is just a bird. Sometimes there's nothing to learn. When I see a young eagle cruising a field and it's only mildly interesting to me and not visually startling then I know it's not an omen. It's just nature gracing me with a glimpse of its magnificence. The trick is something I've only learned with the passage of time. I've learned to trust my intuition, to listen to my instincts. May it be so with you.

Green Air and White Nights

I think it's a line from the first book of The Lord of the Rings in which Tom Bombadil mentions the healing and rejuvenating power of "the green smell" and the wonder and joy to be found in nature. The feeling around here these days is a perfect example of that. We had a blessedly comfortable Fourth of July with the air full of smoke and the scent of green growth. We had the nearly full moon on the left of our viewing area and a gathering storm on our right. The brightness of the moon, the lightning of the thunderhead and fireworks everywhere in between coupled with the surprising not-scorching heat made for a very pleasant and visually stimulating holiday. It's indicative of the recent weather and lush greenness of life in these hills lately. While my health has been less-than-perfect, to say the least, lately every time I step outside I feel myself immediately wrapped in a cocoon of green healing energy. The very air seems green and full of potential and while that doesn't solve any of my problems it gives me hope.

It never ceases to amaze me, this phenomena of trees and flowers and the wide open sky instantly lifting my spirits and inspiring me. I can be deep in an unpleasant, unhappy funk and one brief sighting of a crane flying past a brilliant sunset can put the silliest grin on my face. My spirits can be down in the dumps and just a few minutes of owl or whip-poor-will song has me smiling like an idiot. When I get so frantic and jittery that I can't sit still all it takes is a half-hour walk around our immense back yard with the dogs to calm me down and help me find my center. And if I ever find myself wondering why I don't feel as good as I should I just have to remember that, for some reason or another, I haven't communed with the moon for a while.

I hate the time of the new moon. I hate it when I can't speak with Luna. Don't get me wrong, I totally understand the phases of the moon and why we have to have three moonless nights a month. I'm not hating on the nature of the solar system. And I also recognize, with gusto, the significance and power of the moon in all her phases. I recognize and revere Hecate, and her magic, just as much as any other self-respecting witch. But I miss the moon so much when I can't see her. I hate cloudy nights and I hate new moon time for the same reason: I can't see her and I can't feel her anywhere near as keenly as I do when I can see her. Intellectually, I know that even though I cannot see her with my puny human eyes that she is still there. I know she is there during the day but the sun is too bright and won't allow me to see her. I know she is there when nighttime clouds obscure her. And I know she is there during her new phase. I know this. But it doesn't make it any easier.

I don't think I can explain rationally with facts and figures; it's entirely subjective. When it comes to the natural world I truly am a Missourian: I want you to show me! Or at least, when it comes to bird song, let me hear it for myself. I must smell it, feel it, experience it for myself or its meaningless. Okay, it's not meaningless. But without personal firsthand sensory experience I receive no direct and immediate benefit from it. When I can't see the moon, or be outside and smell the green smell, just knowing it's out there doesn't really mean much. It's like reading a nature magazine. It can be fascinating, it can be very educational and it can spurn me into action. It can broaden my horizons and lead me to new pursuits and new interests, but it doesn't heal my soul or my spirit. It doesn't lift me out of a foul mood and it doesn't inspire me. I guess what I'm saying is that learning about nature teaches my brain and that's all well and good. But being outside and experiencing nature through my own senses teaches my soul. And, for that, I will be eternally in awe.

The Great Pacific Garbage Patch

Or, If You Still Aren't Recycling Here's a DAMN GOOD REASON to Start

What is the Great Pacific Garbage Patch, you say? Well, it's a huge floating pile of trash all clobbered together in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. What is it? It's mostly plastics. Plastics like that water bottle you just threw in the trash. Plastics like that wrapper you just threw out the window. Plastics like that gallon jug you left by the creek at the camping area. It's estimated that only about 20% of the trash comes from ships. The other 80% comes from land sources, like through rivers, drainage, etc. And here's the kicker: it's big. How big, you say? It's ROUGHLY TWICE THE SIZE OF FUCKING TEXAS!

How does it stay in one general area? This article from the LA Times perhaps puts it best:

This is known as the Eastern Garbage Patch, part of a system of currents called the North Pacific subtropical gyre. Located halfway between San Francisco and Hawaii, the garbage patch is an area of slack winds and sluggish currents where flotsam collects from around the Pacific, much like foam piling up in the calm center of a hot tub.

Pretty scary, eh? And this is only the biggest patch! They exist in all the oceans all over the world!

If anyone ever needed a reason to start, and stick with, recycling this is a good one. Why aren't you recycling? Too much work, too much hassle? You have a busy life, you have lots of responsibilities, lots to see, do, learn, people to meet, etc., and you just don't have the time for it? It's not worth the effort? I wonder what the innocent animals who live in the water think of your rationalizations. Some animals, like this sea turtle, become trapped and deformed by the floating trash. Some ingest it and die either from starvation, suffocation or from the plastic painfully twisting their innards. Some get trapped in larger piles and simply can't get out, so they starve to death with a clear view of freedom and food. From the same LA Times article:

An estimated 1 million seabirds choke or get tangled in plastic nets or other debris every year. About 100,000 seals, sea lions, whales, dolphins, other marine mammals and sea turtles suffer the same fate.

And if that's not enough to get you off your ass consider this: the trash doesn't just hurt the animals within its immediate area.

Plastics are derived from petroleum. The heat of the sun, as well as ultraviolet rays, causes the plastics to break down into water and carbon dioxide thus adding to the problem of global climate change. While it's still floating the plastic blocks sunlight, interrupting the growth of algae, which also adds to the problem of global climate change. You see, algae eats carbon dioxide, loves the stuff. There are even experiments going on to feed iron to algae thus creating a boom in their growth and a lowering of carbon dioxide. It's not just the animals who are suffering. By refusing to recycle we are, in effect, killing ourselves.

If you aren't already recycling your plastics, numbers 1 and 2, start now! There's no time like the present! There are recycling centers all across this land and many, many larger towns and cities include recycling pickup with their regular trash service, often at no extra cost. What's stopping you? Yeah, it's a new routine but once you've gotten into it you will be amazed at how simple it is, how easy it is. Rinse things out, get rid of the lid and label and toss the item into a set aside recycling bin. Then, either put it on the curb or gather it all together every few months or so. You'll be doing your part to make sure the Garbage Patches of the world don't get any bigger. You'll make yourself feel good and you just might teach your kids something about environmental responsibility. Even if you don't give a shit about the animals of the oceans at least get to recycling for the sake of yourself, your own children and your race.

Clash of the Song Titans

Last night as the sun was going down, but well before it was actually dark, our friendly neighborhood mockingbird made it abundantly clear that he had returned to said neighborhood. In fact, he was belting out the tunes and putting on quite a show at the edge of the garden. I happened to be within 40 feet of him, as I was taking pictures of the sunset, and got an earful. I love mockingbirds. I understand that some people don't care for them and all I can say about that is that there's no accounting for taste. Mockingbirds are the radio stations of the bird world. If you don't care for a certain song just wait a minute and a different song will start up. They are excellent indicators of which birds are in a particular area and they're just plain funny and entertaining. I was so glad to hear him singing.

While I was enjoying the sunset and mockingbird show suddenly a lone coyote started belting out the usual high, piercing, woman-screaming-with-a-knife-in-her-back call. What was unusual was the timing. Our local coyotes have never, to my knowledge, made such calls during the daytime. Granted, I did see an apparently pregnant female cross the highway just a couple hours after dawn the other day so maybe that's related. But it was still weird to hear a coyote call at that time of day. Usually I don't hear them until well after dark, sometimes not until well after midnight.

At any rate, the mockingbird and the coyote seemed to be aware of each other and gradually became even louder and more insistent. I'm not sure if the coyote could actually hear the mockingbird as it was likely too far away. But it was obvious the mockingbird could hear the coyote. And, wow, was the mockingbird miffed that his song was being interrupted. His singing got louder and even more energetic and I basked in the joy of the moment.

I've had other joyful bird sightings and hearings lately. Yesterday I saw a pair of scarlet tanagers which are a beautiful, brilliant red. They were flitting around the back yard and around the garden and, while the sighting was brief, I got a kick out of it. Our local bat has been sighted, but not yet by me, so I'm still looking forward to it. Some sparrows are building a nest in one of our birdhouse hanging from the garage and gradually all of our bird friends are returning. And, joy of joys, I heard a whip-poor-will yesterday just before dawn.

At our old house we had one who spent all night moving around our house. It was heavenly hearing him sing all night, every night all through the spring and summer months. We've only very occasionally heard a whip-poor-will around here and I've missed it terribly. I've been known to express pity for those who have never heard the song of the whip-poor-will and I had a thought about it while cruising YouTube. So, here ya go!

Here's hoping our local whip-poor-will sticks around! And here's hoping we all have a happy spring! (Or a happy autumn for those down under!)

Finally Spring!

I saw my first hummingbird of the year the day before yesterday. I saw my first indigo bunting of the year today! It's finally warm enough that I've actually felt genuinely hot while busy working. The colors of spring are bursting forth all around us: pink and white dogwoods, the whites of cherry trees, the soft purple of lilac and the muted yet brilliant purple-pink of the little redbud trees along the driveway. According to Riverwolf all the bright colors of spring prove that April is the gayest month and I think he might be right. When else do we see such brilliant hues from the Earth Mothers palette?

The spring air is simply luscious! The scent of fresh cut grass and the spring flowering plants fill the air. Here on Windy Hill we always get a heavy dose of the perfume of spring and I'm really appreciating it. Our winter was so long I think I'd forgotten the wonders of the fresh green smell! There's nothing finer for me than walking the dogs in the yard and soaking up all the green. I let my hair fall down and the wind does its best to carry it away and I just love it! For an interesting and insightful wind-related blogging check out Aquila ka Hecate's Trees Genuflect Before the Wind.

While we've got a lot more gardening yet to do this spring I am happy to report that our radishes (above) and lettuce (below) are sprouting up nicely.


Our main garden still needs tilling as our 5 year old tiller has quit on us. We're hoping to borrow or rent a tiller without breaking the already stretched thin bank. My witch hazels along the back fence are gaining height which pleases me immensely. As per our custom we'll wait another 2 weeks before bringing out the plants that over wintered under the grow lights in the extra back bedroom. About that time we'll also purchase and plant our favorite potted plants like impatiens, petunias and marigolds. I'm so looking forward to it. This winter held on with a tight grip and I am very relieved to see it leave. I'm looking forward to dirt under my nails and fresh produce from the garden.

May your spring be blessed and portend a glorious summer!

Sacred Snakes

Click for larger version.

This collage was made on paper slightly too big for my scanner so I had to photograph this hoping it would turn out okay. I'm not really happy with the quality of the image but pretty happy with the collage itself. The text, if you can make them out, are lines from a haiku of Singh. At any rate, I'm gonna be purchasing smaller paper for my future collage efforts so as to avoid the obvious problems of glare and lack of focus.

The photocopied image of the statuary is Laocoon and His Sons dating from about 100 BCE. The little female figurine, partially obscured by the glare, is a Minoan snake goddess found on Crete. The little snake head underneath Laocoon's son is Jörmungandr the Nordic world serpent. There's also a tiny Medusa on the bottom and the stone relief serpent near the top is either Aztec or Mayan. I honestly can't remember and forgot to write it down. The photo behind said serpent is a shot of some jalapenos from our garden from a few years back. The snake photos on the bottom were from a Missouri Conservationist snake pamphlet.

Progress?

Officially, the hummingbirds have made it to southern Missouri, but we haven't seen one around here. It's just too damn cold. The daytime temperatures haven't been so bad lately; I've even been opening a window every now and then. But nighttime temperatures have been hovering right about the freezing mark for several days now. We have a nice day or two and then back to being so cold we have to keep both fireplaces roaring. And the forecast isn't very encouraging either; it's supposed to get near 60 tomorrow, near 70 the next day and then back to the freezer after that. Our poor trees and other plants are confused as hell. Sure, we always have some weather weirdness around here but this is ridiculous.

It's really got me thinking about global warming which is, of course, a bit of a misnomer. See, if a man made global warming really is taking place its effect won't necessarily be a hotter Earth. It'll be a generally fucked up atmosphere resulting in all kinds of negative effects. I guess that's why the newer term "climate change" is gaining more ground, although to me it doesn't really go far enough. I think we need to adopt a more precise, if longer and awkward, name. "Global warming" sounds like it could be a worldwide summer where everyone picnics and sunbathes at the same time. "Climate change" could just be one of the semi-regular cooling or warming periods our planet has experienced since its birth. To be fair it's got to be more than two words, maybe four or five or more, to be accurate.

How 'bout "human made armageddon"? Hmm, maybe not; it's a little too Abrahamic for my taste. What about "Earth children spawn their own destruction"? Or, even better, "stupid humans, in an effort to attain unattainable limitless power and wealth create the ultimate irony: their own self-made destruction"? Yeah, I like that; it's a lot closer to the heart of the issue than "global warming" or "climate change". But I imagine it'll never catch on with the wider public or the media. It's too honest, too graphic, too real. And too long for many people who seem to have the attention span of ....well, I'm trying to think of a good analogy. But I can't seem to think of anything that equates to the average television junkie.

I read somewhere that there's a particular brain wave pattern that occurs in the heads of those glued to the television that indicates very little thought taking place. Now, don't get me wrong, I watch my share of Bones, Futurama and Squidbillies, but damn, some people do nothing but watch tv. And I wonder if that isn't part of the greater problem of our possibly-soon-to-collapse society. Perhaps some of us have stopped thinking critically altogether in favor of eye candy-induced zombiehood. I can't help but wonder: if the industrial revolution had never happened, and we had never gained so much free time, and tv was never invented, would we be in this mess today? I know that's a stretch and an oversimplification, but I think my question is still valid. So what's the answer?

I don't know, as usual. All I do know is that I'm cold. And I'm sick of being cold. The growth of our pear trees has already been stopped in its tracks because of the weather; luckily the cherry trees haven't budded yet. The bugs have woken up, dug out and gotten just cold enough to move into the house. The pond frogs keep trying to stick it out at night but I can't help wondering if they're suffering rather than simply giving up and digging back into the mud. But I guess it isn't all bad. Most of the plants are still persevering and I did see a bumble bee yesterday. Our lettuce and radishes are sprouting nicely and the hummingbirds have been reported in areas north of us. So I guess spring is coming; it's just having to take a long, hard, cold road. I guess I need to get back to working some magic to help it along!

Sadistic Mother Nature

Spring is trying to get sprung here in the Ozarks. The equinox came and went, leaving hope in its wake. The grape hyacinths, regular hyacinths and numerous tulips and jonquils are blooming. Other warm weather plants are growing their greenery in anticipation: the day lilies, rose of Sharon, multi-flower rose and lilacs are all gearing up. Most of the trees are budding out with wild abandon, though the walnuts are still dragging their feet, or roots as the case may be. The geese and other migratory birds are slowly returning, though it will be several weeks before the first hummingbird sighting. Pear and peach trees are putting on gorgeous displays of color as are the brilliant, yellow forsythias. We had our garden turned last week in preparation for the usual tomatoes, peppers, green beans and other veggies. I spent several days last week bopping around in my shorts, tank top and brand new sandals. It was so warm and sunny I thought that spring had finally arrived.

It's near freezing right now and we're expecting two days of snow this weekend.

Mother Nature is really fucking with us. Don't misunderstand me; spring and fall in the Ozarks are always something of a roller coaster ride. It's not uncommon to have snow on the spring solstice or a cold, rainy Beltaine. And it's not uncommon to have a very cold Mabon or a warm Samhain. That's just the way it is around here, always has been and always will be I suppose. But this time I really hate this "two steps forward then two steps back" shit. The last year or so has been really hard on my family and, while some things have improved, the situation is still very tense and uncomfortable at times. The warm weather of the last couple weeks had me feeling better and to have it taken away again is like a hard, cold slap in the face.

I am so ready for spring; I'm enthusiastically eager for green growth and sunny days. I don't even begrudge the pollen that will clog my sinuses like a stopped up sink and make me blow up like a sneezing machine. I'm not too worried about the fleas, ticks, wasps or those little iridescent Japanese fuckers that munch on the grapes and other plants. I'm not concerned about poison ivy, Johnson grass or dandelions. I'm looking forward to mowing the lawn, pulling weeds and getting my hands dirty. I want to pick bouquets of wildflowers and place them on my altar. I want to hear the pond frogs sing all night, every night without fail. I want to listen to the timeless, hypnotic song of crickets and other night creatures. I want to drink in the night sky without catching a chill. I want to soak up the sun with no care in the world other than sunburn.

Mother Nature, it seems, has other plans. I'll have to go back to bringing in wood everyday. I'll have to go back to keeping all the windows shut tight. The outside heat lights will have to stay on for the time being. It's back to socks, long pants and jackets. There won't be any barbecues around here for a while and very little sitting on the back porch watching the sunset. All of the pond frogs have no doubt dug back into the mud leaving the night deathly quiet except for the sound of the gusts here on Windy Hill. I'm not complaining but...oh wait, yes I am complaining. Enough winter already! Come on spring! It's a witches' job to help turn the wheel of the year; I guess I have my work cut out for me.

Critters Great and Small

Disclaimer: I just want to say from the get-go: the following stream-of-consciousness ramblings are not intended to offend anyone be they vegetarian, vegan, sympathetic omnivore or hard-core carnivore. These are just some weird thoughts I've had running through my head.

When I was about ten years of age I decided to become a vegetarian. I can't recall my specific reasons but I think it must have had something to do with my love of and gift for attracting animals. I've always had a gift for putting animals at ease, especially scared animals stuck up a tree, or hiding under the house/bed, etc. And animals love me. Of course, I'm speaking of typical pets like dogs, cats, ferrets, hamsters, ya know, small mammals. They love me. I don't think I've ever met a single furry critter that didn't love me like magnets love the refrigerator door. I can't tell you how many times I've had people, whose homes I was visiting for the first time, express amazement that their extremely anti-social critter was curled up in my lap. Now, to be honest, I've lived in the country for a large part of my life and so my shoes will naturally have great smells attached to them. I understand that to a city animal the scent of a raccoon or possum is fascinating. But even without that particular nose candy I've always had a knack for the furry critters of the world. And when I hit puberty around 9-10 years of age I became conscious of the link between the 10 dogs and cats in my bedroom and the hundred cows out in the fields. So, I decided to quit eating meat.

I think it lasted 3 months. The lure of barbecued hamburgers was just too strong for me to resist. Like my initial decision to give up meat I don't remember the specific thought process that went into the decision. I just remember craving a good, grilled burger. Now that 20 years have passed I think the fact that really decided me was that cats, dogs, etc., were/are small, affectionate and familiar. Cows, chickens, turkeys, pigs and fish were/are unfamiliar and, as far as I've ever seen since then, completely uncaring about human companionship. I think my ten-year-old mind figured that if they didn't care for me then I had no reason to care for them. Does that make sense?

Now that I'm older and I, along with most of the world, am much world environmentally conscious I think about how the overall meat and poultry industries are affecting our planet. Being that I'm from cattle country I'll bring up cow flatulence. Strange as it may seem, I've been thinking about it a lot lately. Does it really hurt the atmosphere? I can't help but think it does. Sure, one group in one field doesn't mean much. But there are millions upon millions of cattle the world over; that's gotta add up to a helluva lot of methane. And, lest we forget, in many parts of the world acres and acres of oxygen-producing, animal habitat-providing forests are obliterated for the sake of cattle raising. So that's two big strikes against cows.

Where am I going with this? I don't know, as usual. I'm not going to declare myself a vegetarian. But I have cut back on my meat consumption. To be honest, it's not been that hard for me. I've never been a lusty carnivore. If it's there, and it's cooked right and I'm in the mood for it I'll eat it. It's a hit-or-miss affair with me. I'm usually much more interested in grains, vegetables and anything with a disgusting amount of sugar in it. Still, I'm left with a lingering, nagging sense of doubt about the meat consumed in my home. Back in the days of pre-history early humans had to eat meat, it's what we did to survive. Our teeth, and the teeth of animals the world over, are proof of this. But now? Ummm, not so much. We don't need to eat meat anymore. It's no longer required. Our mastery of agriculture has provided us with all the food we will ever need. There are plenty of protein-rich foods that negate the need to ingest meat of any kind. So, I'm left with a big question: are those of us who continue, for whatever reason, to eat meat fighting a battle that we will inevitably, if slowly, lose?

From the Holy Shit Files

Vatican accepts Darwin

and

Man appears free of HIV after stem cell transplant

Seems I looked away for just a moment and all kinds of wild things occurred. It's funny how that works out sometimes. I can read, read, read news obsessively for weeks and come across few items of interest and none that amaze me and then, poof! I take a week or two off to sink to the depths and two near unimaginable things happen in my absence.

And yet, while I've been too wrapped up in myself to pay much attention to the wider world the spirits of nature have not gone unnoticed by me. I've seen a hawk swoop in for the kill (something I'd never seen before) which was an amazing sight, to say the least. And just today we nearly hit a hawk flying low over our truck and spied a deer. A few days ago the bright yellow crocus started peeking out of the ground. Yesterday while I basked in the glory of a beautiful sunset I heard geese. And while we're still burning wood in both fireplaces I can feel spring tiptoeing closer. I can't wait for my winter to end.

Finally Fall

I've been reading in recent weeks how some folks within the pagan blogosphere have felt the thinning of the veil coming on early this year. And I must say I haven't felt that. The natural world around me has taken its time winding down and I am only now this week feeling the magic that is autumn. Maybe it's the cool, rainy day we've had today but I think it's mostly the four flocks of geese I've heard flying high above me. I love to hear them as they call to each other on their great journey. I always wonder where they originally came from. Was it a hundred miles away or a thousand? How long before their next landfall? Are they tired and sore or happy to feel the urge to migrate?

It's always fascinated me, these signs of autumn. I think I love this time of year more than the spring, and not just because the spring is so much harder on those of us who suffer from allergies. There's a crispness in the air that is unmistakable and speaks of the icy blasts to come. The leaves are falling in droves and starting to transform into their brilliant reds, oranges and yellows. Pumpkins are out in force as are gourds, hay bales, corn stalks and other seasonal produce.

Dragonflies and other migrating insects are flying through the yard, visiting the last of our flowers for fuel. The lightning bugs, or fireflies as some folks call them, are long gone as are the ladybugs. The mating season for the walking sticks has come and gone and most of the stinging insects are gone too. The only bugs left are the flies and the fleas desperate to get indoors before the weather turns truly cold, the damn things.

Our local possum has been coming out earlier every day to fatten up for the winter. The barn cats are all growing their winter coats and I imagine the wild creatures of the woods are gearing up for the cold too. The local humans have been busy as well. The colorful pumpkin lights and garland are hanging with joy. The jello-esque light up pumpkins are glowing with glee as are the kitties who like to beat them up. We are working towards wintertime goals too. We've got wood to cut and windows to winterize. We'll probably bring our plants in this week.

Since the veil between the lands of the living and the lands of the dead is thinning this is the time of year to honor the ancestors. A small prayer with an offering of corn meal, tobacco, incense, herbs, gemstones or whatever is appropriate for you is ideal. Personally, I like to make offerings throughout the Samhain season. A little corn meal here, an apple there, a small rite on the astronomical date of Samhain (which falls on 7 November) and a fervent prayer when the wind howls are my way of honoring the dead.

Ah, the fall. There's nothing like it.

Equinox Serenade

During the wee hours of this morning I was up and about, as usual, this time taking the dogs out for a nighttime walk around the backyard. In the midst of trying to avoid the barely visible spiderwebs I heard something I hadn't heard in so many months I'd almost completely forgotten about it: coyotes. We used to have two distinct groups of coyotes near our house and I used to hear them every night, sometimes multiple times. But, for some unknown reason, this year I hadn't heard them once until about 3 this morning. It almost brought tears to my eyes.

The past year has been really dark for my family and I and, as anyone knows, it's hard to feel inspired by anything when one's personal life is a raging mess. With so little green in my life this year and my home life going to hell I've been worried that I'd lost my sense of wonder and appreciation for the wild things of the world. But last night when I heard the coyotes yipping and singing I felt a tiny ray of hope. Not a sense of relief necessarily, but a glimmer of possibility. Don't get me wrong, things around home still suck shit, but "I seemed to see ahead somehow" to paraphrase Sam in Lord of the Rings. I felt that if I can hear the coyotes from time to time and make love to the night sky with my eyes I'll surely be okay.

As I lay my head down after our walk I was further serenaded by a 10-minute owl song, which I absolutely adore. In fact, owl song is one of my favorites of the bird songs to be had around here. (The other is the song of the also nocturnal whip-poor-will; if you've never heard it you have suffered severe misfortune and I pity you.) It was a beautiful lullaby and further encouraged me to dream that the autumn season will bring some positive changes. The gods and the wild things of the night have given me hope.

Ancient Cave Art & Echolocation

I've always been fascinated by ancient cave paintings. Be they animals, human figures or more abstract images like spirals or odd-shaped symbols there's just something amazing about them. They are the proof that, even in prehistory, our very distant ancestors were not only capable of abstract thought but also capable of expressing themselves.

There are many theories attached to these ancient paintings. The animal images could have been painted to help hunters attract/become/honor the spirits of the animals they would have to kill to survive. The images of vulvae could have been ancient pornography or, more likely to my mind, meant to promote fertility and the perpetuation of offspring. The symbols and other abstract images could mean just about anything. Considering that what we call shamanism today was the norm back then there were most likely hallucinogenics used that not only opened eyes and minds but inspired the art of the day. But some of the art could have a more down to earth reason behind it.

A new study suggests that certain images were painted in certain areas where the acoustics were best. And the only way to test acoustics is to make music. According to a LiveScience article:

Ancient hunters painted the sections of their cave dwellings where singing, humming and music sounded best, a new study suggests.

Analyzing the famous, ochre-splashed cave walls of France, the most densely painted areas were also those with the best acoustics, the scientists found. Humming into some bends in the wall even produced sounds mimicking the animals painted there.

On the one hand it could be they tested the acoustics and painted as a way of making a guide to cave systems. Singing or humming to test the space of a pitch black unexplored cave is one very useful way of mapping out a space. Perhaps certain images were used like road signs: "curve ahead" and the like. But it's also quite likely that the music and paintings were aspects of ritual. Or both. It makes me wonder: which came first? The music or the paintings? And how did these two activities come together? It's the beginning of religion and the beginning of ritual that fascinates me most. What we call witchcraft and paganism today has its roots in these ancient ways; without them we wouldn't be doing what we do today.

Me and My Bat Friends

Years ago, when I attended my first pagan camping festival (for Beltaine) I was lucky enough to visit a now-defunct place called Woodhaven in Pineville, Missouri. And it was a gorgeous, magical place with a river, woods, bald eagle nest, a waterfall and a fascinating cave system. I was lucky enough to befriend a local who took me for the grand tour of the caves. And while the caves themselves were amazing, what with shelves where the Indians once placed certain items, the most magical event occurred after I left the caves. I walked out and marveled at the stupidity of the archaeologists who had driven spikes into the trees for their lights circa 1920 and slowly made my way back to the campground, following my guide as it was a big, wild place. The trip back to the campground must have taken over 10 minutes and as my new friend lifted up a barbwire fence for me to duck under he said "Hey, there's a bat on your back!" Can you believe it? I couldn't at the time. I was wearing a rather thick and heavy shirt and didn't even feel the tiny thing clinging to my shirt just below my right shoulder. And it was holding on for dear life and kept holding on until we got up to the slope and met up with our fellow camping pagans. Luckily, one of the revelers knew a little about bats and knew the right way to pick it up. After that, the adorable youngster flew straight back to the caves. I guess I must have brushed up against it when I squeezed through the tighter spots. It was an amazing feeling and an inspirational experience.

I think about that day often and even more so now that our local bat has returned to our pole light for the summer. I love watching our bat fly around our house and dive after bugs. When the bat wheels against the stars I lose sight of it but then it rapidly reappears around the light and I smile like an idiot. And on two different nights lately my bat has had a buddy, perhaps a mate? I wonder. And I also wonder where my local bats spend their days and winters. Bats can live in tree holes but they also, obviously, live in caves. So, Missouri being The Cave State, there could very well be a cave around here that I don't know about. Either way, I just love my bat and would be delighted if the mate sticks around. It would be so awesome to see a baby bat, a pup, around my pole light.

American Indian peoples consider bats to be trickster figures. Ah, tricksters, those wonderful, sneaky, wise and wicked beings that take away and teach at the same time. I'm not sure what lessons the bats in my life have been trying to teach me. Perhaps they are just there to inspire or make me feel special. I know that when I spend time in the wee hours watching my bat wheel and dive around the light and through the stars I feel serene as I never do during the daylight hours. My local bat is my nighttime guide, my companion in my star watching and moongazing. Perhaps it is my spirit guide. Above all, my bat is my friend.

Bat image from beekeeping.com.

Close Encounters

A couple weeks ago I had the pleasure of seeing a scissortail flycatcher on a fence not far from my home. It was awesome to see that long tail which seems to double the size of the bird. I was driving on my way to a dear witchy friends' house that I hadn't seen in a while. I considered it something of a good omen as I'd never seen one before and it was a joyful experience. Scissortails are listed as common around here but I still consider it a lucky occasion. I've seen numerous interesting and rarely sighted critters when I've been driving and these sightings very often have special meanings attached to them or they seem to accompany certain events.
Some days later I had to rescue a chimney swift from Dave the cat. Thankfully, Dave only had the birds' wing in his mouth and not its head or neck. Poor thing was so scared it flew out of my hands straight into the window on the back door. But when I finally got it outside it flew off like it was fine. A few days later I was filling the birdfeeders, of which we have three for regular birdseed that need filling every single day, and I just happened to look down and see a black snake. It had been so long since I'd talked to Snake that I didn't realize it was already spooked. So I reached down, like I always do, to pick it up and it bit my hand a couple of times. It freaked me out because I've picked up black snakes my whole life and never been bitten. In fact, I'm not even sure I knew they had teeth. They do have teeth, but no fangs or venom. The spot on my hand itched a little for a while but it was forgotten by the next day.

There have also been two pairs of Orioles around lately, which is a rare treat. I had only seen one other, a male, over ten years ago. We've also had two different kinds of woodpeckers drinking from the hummingbird feeders, which I imagine the hummingbirds don't like. Woodpeckers have been known to check out hummerfeeders before but never before here on Windy Hill. We've had summer tanagers and lazuli buntings, rose breasted grossbeaks and many others. We've got kittens on the back porch and more in the barn and upstairs. The wasps are filling the air, while, alas, there are no bees yet. But still, spring is ablaze and the animals are as wild and wonderful as ever.

Black snake image from Missouri Conservation site
Flycatcher image from Birds of Caddo Lake
Oriole image from President Avenue Birds

Spring Has Finally Sprung

I think it may be for real this time. I think we are finally done warming up and then cooling way down again. The hummingbirds have arrived and everyday more spring flowers have bloomed. Speaking of flowers I'm looking forward to May with great anticipation as we've had tons of rain lately (tee hee). The warm spring air is delicious. To paraphrase Treebeard: I could stand a week just breathing. The sunshine is glorious and the trees are covered with little bright green leaves. I can feel the juices flowing through all things when I step outside. It seems the grass is racing with the other plant life as fast the birds are returning. The last two days I've had a great time birdwatching, especially since my most favorite bird, the Indigo Bunting (pictured above), has been hanging around. The air is full of birdsong and it's fun to try and distinguish different calls. Yesterday we had two geese fly overhead, their honking calls made me think of peacock song. Good news on the gardening front: most of the peppers have sprouted as well as the pennyroyal. I'm considering a new location for my herb garden as the current spot gets way too much rainwater and it pools and drowns everything. So, I've got some planning to do and then comes the work. But I'm ready for it as spring has finally sprung!
Photo from www.learnbirdsong.com

Embracing the Chill

I had a magical few moments the other night. Everything was just right and I found myself in that magical head space that is undefinable yet known to witches the world round. It was fairly late at night, 11 or so, and while the nearly full moon was cloaked in clouds its reflected light illuminated everything just the same. The wind was blowing wildly, as if often does on our Windy Hill, and the trees, now almost completely bare of their leaves, were creaking and groaning just enough to make their presence known. The leaves crunched beneath my feet and the very air tingled; when I closed my eyes it seemed everything shimmered and sparkled. It was chilly and the wind bitter cold but the atmosphere was so energetic it took my breath away. It wasn't the energy of growth, of new life as occurs during the springtime.

Rather, it was a deeper, more controlled and stronger energy. It is the energy of the wise old crone whose knowledge and experience, like the cold, does not tolerate foolishness. It is a time to look into oneself and see what has grown there over the summer and what is still in need of attention. It is the dead time of the plants and trees. Most of our critter neighbors have either moved on or buried themselves deep in the Earth Mother. Only the occasional cacophony from the coyotes breaks the relative silence. There are no birds moving or singing at night, no cricket song to serenade me as in the summertime. There's only the wind and sky and the creaking trees. The cold wind slapped my face like the hands of Hecate Herself. I don't know if I could ever live in a part of the world untouched by the chill of winter. I think I need the quiet, the stillness and the cold to turn my attention away from the greeness of the world and into myself and my home and family. Winter is not just the end of the growth cycle, it is a valuable part of it and without it life as we know it would not exist. This is the time to embrace the chill, cherish it, grok it and be the better for it.

Our Squirrel

In the last few weeks our home has, for some reason, become a haven for a squirrel. We've lived here nearly 5 years and have never seen a squirrel before and then, all of a sudden, one gray squirrel appeared and then a larger red squirrel. The red one has since moved off but the smaller gray squirrel can still be seen hanging around our bird feeders or occasionally roosting high in the trees. He's a funny little thing and has reminded me that I don't think I've ever lived in a country house that had a squirrel neighbor. There's always been too many coyotes, foxes and feral cats around. We've only rarely seen rabbits for the same reason. I find myself becoming entranced with watching our squirrel and wanting to learn more. From the site Shining Star's Favorite Stories:

Gluskap also made the Indians, corn to feed them, and food for the other creatures. Gluskap wanted to make sure the other animals wouldn't harm his favorite creation, so he gathered together all the animals he had made and said, "Man!" The prudent ones ran and hid. But the squirrel, which at that time was very large, became very upset. It began to run around wildly, screeching loudly and knocking down large trees in its path. Obviously the squirrel would not be a friend to man. Gluskap patted the squirrel to calm it. With each stroke he made it smaller and smaller, until it became the size of a man's hand. Even today, whenever a squirrel sees man, it still runs up and down trees, scolding and chattering in a very quarrelsome way.

I just love the above story, it offers great insight into the jumpy behavior of squirrels. I remember watching squirrels outside my dorm window when I was in college. They can run so fast from branch to branch and it always amazed me that they never seemed to fall or lose their footing. I'm so glad we have a squirrel neighbor now, it lightens my heart in this time of the lengthening and darkening of the year.