Daily Stuff 6-17-20 Ludi Piscatorii

Hi, folks!

Featured photo by Beth Kattleman. The shop is closed today, but open, limited hours, 1-5pm, Thursday through Monday.

It’s mostly cloudy. The stars come and go. 48F, wind at 1-4 mph and gusting, AQI34, UV8. 1 chance of rain today and tonight. The 10 day says that other than Saturday, when there’s a small chance of showers, the whole week ought to be dry and partly sunny. The weather map looks like there’s a weather system trying to pull itself together in the Gulf of Alaska, but we’re under a high.

Yesterday the whole day… vanished…. I was up in the morning for a couple of hours since asthma was being a pain, but then I slept until mid-afternoon. Tempus brought me a cup of coffee and sat with me with his. I remember finishing the coffee…and then it was 6pm! I guess the both of us were pretty tired. I remember Tempus telling me that both boxes had made it to the post office. He finally got up around 7:30 and headed out within minutes to get the bulk route done and got a few groceries, as well as a nap and a snack before starting the other route.

I spent quite awhile in the Cook’s Chat. We talked over quite a lot of stuff including lots of pickling info. After that I worked on recipes, then put this together. Starting to add new herbs to the rotation like the Vervain below.

Embroidery and a book are following me to bed with another blackwork pattern.Today has to be the cleaning that we missed yesterday. I have a bunch of plants to water again and we need to do laundry. Weeks are too short…. The new tires might be in today, if I understand right.

The Bay on 6-15-19 by Beth Kattleman

220px-36-pesca,Taccuino_Sanitatis,_Casanatense_4182.Today’s feast is the Ludi Piscatorii, the day of the fishermen, in honor of Father Tiber, the Tiber River in Italy. (although Wikipedia has it as 6/7…)  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ludi_Piscatorii It is also the day of St. Botolph, according to Nigel Pennick, who is an English saint, patron of travelers and fishermen.  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saint_Botolph Fishing has been a main source of food since the neolithic and the first permanent settlements, such as those at Lepensky Vir (7000BCE or so) were based on fishing. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lepenski_Vir

common vervain (V. officinalis) from Deutschlands Flora in Abbildungen by Johann Georg Sturm and Jacob Sturm, 1796

Vervain, Verbena officinalis, Tears of Isis, Hera’s Tears, Holy Herb, Herb of Grace. Native to europe although other verbenas are from the Americas and Asia. Used in perfume and Bach Flower Remedies – Feminine, Venus, Water – The Cimeruta amulet is this plant. Ritual cleansing of sacred space, magical cleansing baths, purification incenses. Hang over the bed to prevent nightmares. Love, protection, Prosperity charms good luck and inspiration, Anger management, Sexual harassment management, Health and healing, Sleep, Enchantment, Wishes granted.

The shop is closed on Tuesday/Wednesday, but open, limited hours, 1-5pm, Thursday through Monday. Need something? Give us a call at 541-563-7154 or Facebook or email at ancientlight@peak.org We should be able to accommodate requests and even allow a little shopping, one person at a time.

Love & Light,


Today’s Astro & Calendar

Waning Moon Magick – From the Full Moon to the New is a time for study, meditation, and magic designed to banish harmful energies and habits, for ridding oneself of addictions, illness or negativity. Remember: what goes up must come down. Phase ends at the Tide Change on 6/20 at 11:02pm. Hecate’s Brooch 3-5 days before New Moon – Best time for Releasing Rituals. It’s the last few days before the new moon, the time of Hecate’s Brooch. This is the time that if you’re going to throw something out, or sweep the floors, or take stuff to Good Will, do it! Rid yourself of negativity and work on the letting go process. Release the old, removing unwanted negative energies, addictions, or illness. Do physical and psychic cleansings. Good for wisdom & psychic ability. Goddess Aspect: Crone – Associated God/desses: Callieach, Banshee, Hecate, Baba Yaga, Ereshkigal, Thoth. Phase ends at the Dark on 6/19 at 2:43pm. 

Mercury is stationary at 4 P.M. EDT. The tiny planet is 10° high around sunset and disappears below the horizon within an hour.

Noctilucent clouds at Pilpasuo – These night-glowing clouds appeared over Oulu, Finland, in August 2016. Such clouds are common during summer months. – Juho Holmi (Flickr

Whether you’re able to spot Mercury or not, you might see something else: noctilucent, or “night-glowing,” clouds. Common during warmer seasons, these clouds occur when ice crystals form on high-altitude dust particles 40 to 50 miles (64 to 80 km) above the ground. These pearly white clouds appear to glow even as other, lower clouds — which form more than 10 times lower — darken as night falls. These clouds are not unique to Earth, either — the Mars Curiosity rover has imaged noctilucent clouds drifting through the Red Planet’s skies.
Arcturus, magnitude zero – as bright as Vega – shines pale yellow-orange high overhead toward the south. Bootes the cowherd, its constellation, extends in a kite shape up from Arcturus. The kite is narrow, slightly bent, and 23° long: about two fists at arm’s length. Just east (left) of the Bootes kite is the pretty but dim semicircle of Corona Borealis, the Northern Crown. It has only one modestly bright star, 2nd-magnitude Alphecca or Gemma: its crown jewel.
Uranus is still too low in the glow of dawn.

Old Farmer’s Almanac June Sky Map – https://www.almanac.com/night-sky-map-june-2020-see-stars-move
Goddess Month of Rosea runs from 6/13 – 7/10
Celtic Tree Month of Duir/Oak, Jun 10 – Jul 7 –
Runic half-month of Dagaz/ Dag, 6/14-6/28. – Beneficial rune of light, health, prosperity and openings, signifying the high point of the day and the high point of the year when in light and warmth all things are possible.

Sun in Gemini
Moon in Taurus
Mercury Retrograde at 9:59pm (7/12)
Venus (6/25), Jupiter (9/12), Saturn (9/29), Pluto (10/4) Retrograde
Color: Yellow

Planting 6/16-18

©2020 M. Bartlett, Some parts separately copyright


Celtic Tree Month of Duir/Oak, Jun 10 – Jul 7 – The oak of myth and legend is the common oak (Quercus robur L.). It is sometimes called the great oak, which is a translation of its Latin name (robur is the root of the English word “robust”). It grows with ash and beech in the lowland forests, and can reach a height of 150 feet and age of 800 years. Along with ashes, oaks were heavily logged throughout recent millennia, so that the remaining giant oaks in many parts of Europe are but a remnant of forests past. Like most other central and northern European trees, common oaks are deciduous, losing their leaves before Samhain and growing new leaves in the spring so that the trees are fully clothed by Bealltaine. Common oaks are occasionally cultivated in North America, as are the similar native white oak, valley oak, and Oregon oak. Oaks are members of the Beech family (Fagaceae). Curtis Clark

Duir – Oak Ogam letter correspondences
Month: May
Color: Black and Dark Brown
Class: Chieftain
Letter: D
Meaning: Security; Strength

to study this month – Eadha – White Poplar or Aspen Ogam letter correspondences
Month: None
Color: Silver White
Class: Shrub
Letter: E
Meaning: Problems; Doubts; Fears.


Tides for Alsea Bay

W   17      Low   5:10 AM     0.4   5:31 AM    Rise  3:29 AM      19
~    17     High  11:20 AM     5.2   9:03 PM     Set  5:39 PM
~    17      Low   4:40 PM     2.4
~    17     High  10:44 PM     7.4


Affirmation/Thought for the Day – Sometimes the fear won’t go away, so you’ll have to do it afraid.


Journal Prompt – Where? – Where would you most like to watch the sun come up? Why?



~  My love is deeper than the holler, stronger than the river, higher than the pine trees growin tall upon the hill. My love is purer than the snowflakes that fall in late december and honest as a robin on a springtime windowsill, and longer than the song of the whippoorwill. – Randy Travis
~   High expectations are the key to everything – Sam Walton
~   Winter is when the snow falls in buckets and leaves the world looking like a fantasy land. There is nothing that gets the butterflies going in my stomach more than walking through the woods at night with snow hanging so thick off the branches it looks like white moss. The branches hang low from the weight of it and form magical tunnels that sparkle and shimmer. It makes me want to stand there and marvel forever. – Joyce Wiedemann
~   Far better to live your own path imperfectly than to live another’s perfectly. – Bhagavad Gita

It is a sultry day; the sun has drunk
The dew that lay upon the morning grass;
There is no rustling in the lofty elm
That canopies my dwelling, and its shade
Scarce cools me. All is silent, save the faint
And interrupted murmur of the bee,
Settling on the sick flowers, and then again
Instantly on the wing. – William Cullen Bryant (1794–1878


Litha Magick – Lore

Past Midnight – Author: Merideth Allyn, Posted: August 12th. 2016

I am Witch. It is one a.m. yet again, with two, then three to follow. The Witching Hours. However, unless casting or divining by the moon’s hours or its course, no matter how I struggle or resist, my legs take charge, grounded in earth’s gravity, and take me to bed. They know, at least, that should I refuse, which I have done as I am of defiance born, or if I linger longer, fatigue awaits me in the later morn.

The post twilight now-dark hours past midnight are most magically magnetic and most mysteriously mine. Like the svelte nocturnal beasts I prowl. I own the dark: above, below and around me. The black night is as pregnant with possibilities as the faeryflies are abundant this midsummer night. A whimsical wind I hear outside the confines of my cottage, and I look out my huge bay window opened to the balmy air, and my heart trips at this full night of moon. The wind makes musical the enchanting wind chimes scattered for prism effects and crystalline tinkling in the lower branches of the huge oaks for strength and in the walnuts for wisdom, the elders for magic and the hawthorns for the fae. I love my trees, wildflowers and my medicinal and magical herbal gardens copious with lavender, sage, bee balm, primrose, lilac, jasmine, chamomile and so many more. I am a healer, primarily of the emotions and spirit, and I take pride in what I grow to be of service to any who seek me.

This wind seems to take its orders from the clouds scurrying across the moon followed by birds all seemingly going to some sacred ritual. A most enigmatic night it is and my soul stirs in my loins. The moon’s radiance brings deep shadows and contrasting light placing in bas relief every leaf on every tree and every petal on every flower, yet keeping the background almost too murky making me wonder who or what lurks. Regardless I am inside and feeling stifled, I wrap my shawl more tightly around my shoulders as I can sense more than most.

The night sounds that deafen suddenly can go silent, though, when the whip-whip-whippoorwill trills in a minor key the liberation of a soul from Middle Earth, and takes its piping melody, with bound soul, to the Otherworld. But it saddens me not. It is release…freedom from this heavy overcoat to a lighter, more energized, viable and less visible form. With a lighter coat, there is less scrutiny from eyes that wish harm and souls that lack understanding. Fear is a terrible thing. I have little fear as I have faced my imminent death to Middle Earth, regardless my late middle years for age matters not to the majestic reaper. And, besides, I seek adventure of the mercurial kind.

This evening’s past ‘tween time feels much like my adolescent first love…reckless with passion. The sun sinks into the coral, lilac and golden ocean. My veins feel the thrill of blood rushing and a lightning like quickening. My stomach is roller coasting in uncontrollable ecstasy. Almost giddy and childlike now I merge, in my mind’s eye, with all the beauty, wonder and awe of a Universe so replete with surprises.

The night, this night, calls me. It calls to me like no other has ever called. My middle-aged loins are buzzing where comfort and coziness and sitting contently by a blazing fire were all I usually desired. I have felt no 20-year-old passion in many a year; no galloping knights on steeds sweeping me off the mundane ground and off my peasant’s feet to gallop with them to their sparkling castles in the Otherworld. And, oh, that sweet smell of honeysuckle and wild rose competing for attention in my gardens; it does more than waft through the windows. It compels me. How can I refuse such an alluring call?

But a good Witch, also, must make her daily tasks magical by completing them. There is still sweeping and mopping and watering the drooping plants in my sacred space no matter the lateness of the hour before fulfilling fantasies in this night so intensely wild. I look out the bay window again. I look up at the silver mother of pearl hanging orb surrounded by twinkling smaller ones, a sequined sky. My sky, my night. I see the huge trees bending and swaying, undulating their siren call to me. I can resist no longer.

I burst through the stained glass and oaken door which has afforded me such sunny pleasure when the yellow orb of day penetrates the glass and paints the walls, floors and ceiling with dancing, colorful, prismatic figures. I rush heedless into the untamed freedom of this cacophonous night, smelling the sweetest of fragrant scents…so sweet almost unimaginable and certainly not of this world or of my garden. I hear music alchemically mixing with the music of my wind chimes and could swear to the sounds of children laughing and singing a beckoning song. I follow their laughter. I follow their song but cannot reach them try as I might. I could only, and finally, sink to the soft, receptive earth watching and waiting expectantly for the night to bring me what it promises.

Five a.m. What happened to the time? I look as the dawn turns to pale shades of citrine, lavender and rose quartz, and I cannot recall. And, oh dear Lord and Lady of the Wildwood, my gardens…so overgrown. I remembered then the legend of Rip Van Winkle and knew, without one doubt, that I had been pixie-led.

My gardens have grown up to the cottage and farther up the old stonewalls tend riling around the chimney. The glass is cracked and the panes shattered in my beautiful bay window where my cats and I had so peacefully curled and enjoyed thunderstorms, sunsets, and warm slumber during all seasons. My hands are gnarled and littered with age spots. And, my clothes are tight and cumbersome where they once fit correctly on my used-to-be middle-aged body. Wildness and chaos reign but from a different kind on this day.

The now old woman lived broodingly a year and a day to the exact moment when she was pixie-led, which seemed to her lifetimes ago. She had foraged among her kitchen and wildflower gardens to keep her alive, but, sadly, she never could remember the happiest days of her life; her days with the faeries in the cherished green forest, feasting and dancing by the amber fires with glowing lanterns swinging from the trees expressing an ambience unearthly; a day she had always dreamed of for she had never given up believing in faeries regardless the parents’ and the preachers’ and teachers’ insistence that there were “no such things.”

Grieving, she lived those three hundred and sixty-six days going outside to leave, each night, a gift for those who had taken her and a plea they would come for her again promising she would never reveal the way to the Otherworld, to the place of The Gentry or People of Peace. If she could only remember, she would take any path, no matter how difficult, no matter how terrifying, to get to Elphame, one of the Faery Lands, once again. She looked to the heavens, saw the moon and the stars and sighed. No more was there midnight mystery although there was mystery in the not knowing…the lack of remembrance. A tear fell and riveted along her wrinkled cheeks and dropped to the ground.

Midnight on day three hundred and sixty-six found her feeling dizzy. Her heart fluttered and once again she fell to the receptive earth filled this time with varied colored and fragrant lilies. There was music again as well, but this time her ears were dead to the sounds as was she to all of life on Middle Earth. Though, before her ears could hear no more, she did hear the minor keyed melody of the whippoorwill.

The Good People of the Otherworld were trooping toward her in high fashion. For the fae never forget one of its own regardless kith or blood kin. Trumpets trumpeted, flutes pan-piped and The Gentry whisked her away as if she were no heavier than they. Moonlit bright ribbons billowed in a once again whimsical wind she seemed to hear and feel from a distance. A moment or two later, no matter it was not past midnight on Middle Earth, she woke to the remembrance of remembering, to the sheep’s tail of a lingering dream…she woke to bliss. She looked herself over and saw a maiden’s light ephemeral form…she always knew she would feel lighter in the Otherworld, and she understood that this time she was here to stay. She would laugh, love and live with her beloved faeries and dance in the magical sunlight and moonlight in enchantment for forever and a day.

Copyright: All Rights
Merideth Allyn
Location: Jackson, Tennessee
Author’s Profile: To learn more about Merideth Allyn – Click HERE 


Silliness – My Grades

A high-school student came home one night rather depressed.
“What’s the matter, Son?” asked his mother.
“Aw, gee,” said the boy, “It’s my grades. They’re all wet.”
“What do you mean ‘all wet?'”
“You know,” he replied, “…below C-level.”

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