Savor


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Every morning I awake torn between a desire to save the world and an inclination to savor it. This makes it hard to plan the day. But if we forget to savor the world, what possible reason do we have for saving it? In a way, the savoring must come first.

~EB White

Dear Reader

A subtle shift in light first alerts me. Slightly lower in the sky, it gives off a luminous golden hue. It arrives earlier each afternoon. So fleeting in its appearance, I nearly weep if I miss it due to being preoccupied by some necessary yet mundane task. I so treasure these last soft waves of summer; they are the days to savor, meant to be tucked safely into the cave of your heart.

Some turns of the seasonal wheel are subtle, and others, like the week August folds into September, are profound. Early to mid August, the upward thrust of energy is both strong and demanding, nearly a burden to bear, and then in that third week, the tension subsides, and an ease fills the air. That’s not to say there isn’t plenty to do; in fact, there is more than can fill a day, but that downshift slows the pace and movements become more mindful.

After months of barely stepping indoors except to care for the essentials- sleep, food preparation, and bathing- I find myself spending more hours under the roof. It's preserving time, and there's something to tend every day. Tomatoes to slow roast for the freezer, cucumbers to pickle, herbs to preserve in salt or oil, and I really can’t let those gorgeous nasturtiums go without adding them to a gallon of vinegar that will brighten winter salads.

With each passing day, I acclimate further to the surrounds of four walls, but I’m a long way from releasing the majority of daylight spent outdoors. I already feel the pangs of missing the darting hummingbirds, the ever-present bees of every shape and size, and the need to watch the steps of my bare feet so as not to crush the ribbon snake so stealthily hidden. Of course I will survive the departure of my animal friends, but for now I will bask in their company.

As these final weeks of summer are clocked, I will gather the feast of raspberries, hope for another surge from the basil, and sink my teeth each night into just-picked, crisp sweet corn. Oh, September, my tired limbs do welcome your arrival, acknowledging there is no turning back. Do you hold within your days the first visit from Jack Frost, or will you keep that secret to yourself?

As the effects still reverberate from Thursday/Friday’s powerful full moon eclipse in Pisces, I wonder how eclipse season has been for you? What insights have you gained? What new themes appeared? Amid all the dense astrology, I experienced a creative nesting surge and began preparing a few indoor spaces for the change in season. Borrowing an early hour or so each day from the garden, I’ve been finding cozy arrangements for who we’ve become this past year, making room for what will want more space to grow.

I'm intentionally keeping today’s note short, as I imagine your mind is already so full. Instead of adding more to the mix, I’ll invite you to join me in putting aside some quiet moments to capture all that has come up over the past two weeks of eclipse season (August 12-27). Might you consider creating a mind map or collage of all of the themes that arose? If you do, tuck it away somewhere you will remember, or better yet, post it in your view, as I expect a few of those threads will reappear a time or two in the months ahead.



Energies I will be noting in the week ahead:

Friday the 28th the Sun transits into Gate 40. You may already be experiencing an ease from the prior transit. This isn't a free ride, however; it's a time to note what stirs up a rigid response and give it a rest.

Monday, 31 August: Mars squares Saturn, and that can feel like inner or outer friction, a sense of stop and go that can feel challenging if you are working on a project that needs to move forward. You can, however, flip this and see Saturn as a help, fact-checking Mars's thrust ahead. Its impact, however, will be short-lived.

Thursday the 3rd of September, the Sun begins its transit into Gate 64. There will be confusion, and if we can ride it out, sparks of creativity will arise. The key is to catch the confusion before getting frustrated and enjoy the process.

Until next week,

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Follow the Sun August 28-September 8

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Field Notes from Lauren

I began expressing my big Cancer emotions through writing at a very young age. For me, the unique act of writing is what allows me to process and evolve fully . Today, my weekly missives follow themes that weave between the literal fields of my work in the Gemmo Forest, our family homestead garden, and the energy field we all experience. My life now follows the rhythm of the land. From spring through fall, I can be found outdoors, hands in the dirt, working alongside her husband, Joachim, to tend our 7,500-square-foot family garden or with local volunteers caring for Gemmo Forest. When the cold sets in and the fields rest, I return indoors, where I rekindle my love of writing by the wood stove, always with my faithful calico, Ruby, curled close by.

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