Three Offerings

from the last few days.

1. Lughnasadh and the New Moon

Thursday, August 1 was the first day of school for my grandboys, as they both started Pre-K. Of course we were excited for them and their new adventures, but emotions welled up in our eyes as they embarked on this journey. The new moon and oppressive heat made things feel even heavier. I was gobsmacked when I saw their “First Day of School” photo and realized how much they looked like their daddy on his first day of school. They all wore red shirts!

Two handsome fellas ready to take on their school journey.

Their daddy, my son, 26 years ago on his first day of school.

This day was also Lughnasadh and there were mystical signs every where I looked. Since this is the medial time between the summer and autumn equinoxes, the light is beginning to change. I’m able to greet the moon again in the mornings and the afternoon light is becoming sublime.

I had a close encounter with a wolf spider and a black widow. This time of year, all the spiders begin leaving behind sacs that will be filled with their offspring. The wolf spider serves as a reminder of the importance of trusting our instincts and embracing change in our lives. 

Female wolf spider popping with an egg sac.

The black widow serves as a reminder of the importance of introspection and transformation in one’s spiritual journey. In many spiritual traditions, the Black Widow Spider is seen as a symbol of feminine energy and creative power.

Female black widow with an egg sac.

As I parked my truck on a site, my eyes were drawn to a glass marble buried in the ground. Bending to pluck the marble from it’s sandy bed, I noticed it was a red cat-eye marble. I have a small collection of marbles at home that I’ve found around our farm. They may have been something my daddy played with as a child, but possibly, marbles are messages from the spirit world. They may provide clarity and they are definitely reminders of childhood. 

Unique red cat-eye marble

Added to my collection of marbles from our farm.

This particular marble caused me to reach out to my brother and ask if he played with marbles around our farm growing up. He said that he believed he did and admitted that he “lost his marbles years ago” which we both got a little chuckle out of. Then he shared a classic marbles story from the late, great Jerry Clower.  We were both fortunate to see Mr. Clower in person when Daddy took us to his show, just down the road in Vidalia, GA. Growing up, we were exposed to Mr. Clower’s stories on vinyl records that our family spun on the record player. Of course that sent me on a journey of how much story has played a role in my life and the different ways I fell in love with story. (Essay in the works about this.)

2. Enchanted Path to my Sit Spot

I parked my car in the shade beside Grandpa’s old river house. I walked down to the full river. My kayak-holding cypress knee is submerged beneath the water. A leopard frog leaped out in front of my foot steps to the water’s edge. I looked up river and the way the light was falling, I could make out what looked like a path. It was hot and muggy and the mosquitoes were whining in my ears. I didn’t come here for a hike but the light seemed to be beckoning me, so I obliged and stepped onto the path.

Another leopard frog leapt in front of me. Over and around saw palmettos, under the majestic swamp oak behind the old house, I travelled along the path. Down by the waters edge and between two muddy, water-logged crawdad burrows, past the waist high cypress knee, under the intertwined, drooping limbs of a holly tree and river birch hosting an intricate web with a banana spider in the middle, I travelled.

Over a knoll of knotted roots with tiny yellow mushrooms in between them, a red cardinal swooping overhead, out into a sunlit area created by the winds from last year’s hurricane Idalia, I can now see the trees that were blocking my way up to the bridge during my kayak trip a couple of weeks ago.

I notice two tupelo trees in the river here whose crowns were snapped off during that storm which are now growing new tops, new parasols to go with their smaller hoop skirts. Now I’m finally at the landing that would’ve been beside the old wooden bridge years ago. It looks like you could walk straight out onto the water. I haven’t been here since early summer when I encountered the timber rattler easing over a log while I was trying to cut a trail.

To my left is my old friend, The Seeing tree, whose eye I believe to be a portal to years gone by. And on my right are the old bridge posts and the embankment. I see that the tree top of Mother oak where my Sit Spot resides is now dead, dried, and brown since the half of her roots that were still in the ground after the storm pushed her over, are no longer surrounded by water. That made me sorrowful and I mourned the loss of her soul but know I will enjoy the solace of her Sit Spot for several years. I stood still awhile and let the smells, sounds, and sights of my swamp wash over me before making my way back along the enchanted path.

3. MOO-ving Day

The air is thick as pea soup. The gnats are trying to get in my eyes and ears despite the bucket hat I have pulled down over my head. I’m wearing a flower print sundress under my khaki long sleeved fishing shirt and grey compression socks pulled up to my knees with my ankle hugging muck boots. What a sight I must be on this Sunday morning in the field as I try to help Ken fence in a new grazing area for Daisy Mae, the milk-less milk cow, who walked through her fence on Friday and helped herself to a more lush area of pasture. Rotational grazing isn’t easy when you work off farm most of the week.

What is that smell? During this hot and muggy time of year, when there has been a spell of rain, the farm has many odious offerings, but this seems especially pungent and I can’t seem to get away from it. I hop on the open six-wheeled vehicle we call The Ranger so that I can gather up the step-in posts from the old pasture. Roscoe, the blue heeler, always gets especially excited when it’s time to ride, and now I realize, the smell is coming from him and I see the cloud of gnats covering his back attracted to this stench. What has he rolled in?

I complain, moan, and groan enough about Roscoe’s funk that Ken hears me and says, “He must have found those rotten turkey eggs I threw in the field.” The prospect of this has me gagging and if you know heelers, he is velcroed to me despite my scolds to “Get away from me with your stinky self!” Ruby, the red heeler, must’ve been second in line for the roll-in-the-rotten-eggs fun, as she isn’t emanating the rankness. 

It seems Bertha, the old sow, must be in heat because there are lots of grunts and squeals coming from the area she shares with Rusty, the boar hog. The guineas are marching around calling “buck wheat” as they go, the roosters are crowing, and Daisy Mae is mooing, telling us to hurry it up.

As I am trying to decipher Ken’s new pasture design despite his lack of communication, my mind begins wandering about roles and learning styles. Generally, I am the head dreamer and supervisor of what needs to be done. I inherited the supervisor trait from my Grandpa, who I recall sitting in the driveway down at his old river house on a rusty folding metal chair with his ample belly between his knees and his suspenders holding up the khaki pants that rode below it watching us plant a garden and telling us the proper way to do it, even though we had been successful gardeners for over ten years at that point. I’ll admit, I am not a handy gal. I struggle to accomplish tasks which seem like second nature for Ken. I need an overview of what needs to be done and steps that will be taken to get it done, meanwhile, he’s just doing it. That is why we complement each other so well.

Once I finally caught on to his vision, I went along and placed the step in posts while he ran the electric poly wire. I walked Daisy Mae from her barn area to the new pasture (always my favorite part), and now I can watch her grazing out front of the house from my office window. Two ripe smelling pups are now due for a bath.

(Sorry video wasn’t made for this media platform. I’ll do better in the future.)

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I hope you enjoyed my small offering of creativity. Did you do anything special to mark this intermediate season? Let me know in the comments below.

Blessings to you,

💜B💜