Daily Stuff 5-20-22 Grudie Rosnoe

Hi, folks!

Minus Tide at10:58 AM of -1.4 feet. The shop opens at 1pm. Spring hours are 1-6pm Thurs.-Mon. Featured photo by Ken Gagne.

[posting at 7pm] Rain gauge at noon on 5/19 – 0.1, Back and forth between rain and sun all day. “May changes moods just like a baby, we should call it “maybe”? 53F, wind at 1-8mph and gusting, AQI 12-52, UV6. Chance of rain 10% today % tonight. Forecast – Today/Tomorrow(56/43) We have some dry weather coming this week. Partly cloudy and it’s warming up a bit. Sun(58/47) Cloudy, Mon-Thu(60/48) partly to mostly cloudy, Fri/Sat(57/48) showers, up to 1/2 inch accumulation.

Wow… a whole weekend to write up!

Let’s see…. Monday evening we had some more leftovers. I had frumenty, but Tempus made a sandwich of the pork roast and I made one later. Delicious! Cooking it in beer was different, since it didn’t so much impart a flavor as a scent…. and then we turned in and slept. I was up before Tempus headed out on the paper route and puttered at some chores. ….really just puttered. I didn’t accomplish much.

Tempus got in late on Tuesday, but had a long time to sleep. I was up at noon, and the first things when I opened the blinds that I saw was a lovely, complete, sun halo with colors! Absolutely gorgeous! …and it persisted *all* *day*, even as the sun was dropping over the trees to the west. I have go process the pictures I took….

I started on a little model that I have of the Hooper Straight Lighthouse that’s now been reconstructed at the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum in St. Michal’s, MD. I bought it on my last trip there as we were getting Mom ready to move out here and I only just found it again and took it home this past week to work on. Eventually, I’m going to have my boat and lighthouse models mounted on brackets at home.

Once Tempus was up we had more leftovers, but I also ate a salad, fresh from the garden, and followed it up with some cheese cubes, since we had some swiss and gruyere that needed to be used up and an open mozzarella. I was hoping to pay attention to election results (we dropped off our ballots Sunday evening), but didn’t have any wifi signal…. actually didn’t have any until early Thursday morning!

Tempus waited to head out for the bulk route, knowing that election night papers are *always* late, and he had all kinds of “fun” once he did, since the papers didn’t come out until midnight and the subscriber route usually starts 2-2:30-ish. …and the rain didn’t help, nor did some officious person local to the paper office who had a cow that he was parked on the street and snoozing. He was trying to be out of the way as the out-of-town deliveries started.

Photo by Anja from 5/4/16

Wednesday started with rain and cloud, but by mid-afternoon (Tempus was still asleep) it was dry enough to be outside and working in the garden. My bucket of crowfoot (a local creeping buttercup) is starting to bloom. I had intended that bucket for angelica, but this looks pretty nice, so I’m keeping it. I weeded and weeded. Bucket and container gardens don’t take as much as in-ground weeding, but having a neighbor who runs a trimmer on the lawn, thus throwing seeds and stuff into the buckets end up making for more than I’d usually expect.

I planted garlics and some vegetable ends, next, then some marigolds, a whole flat in a starter tray, and a few around the blueberry, then a few more sunflowers and nasturtiums, and eventually the few seeds of radish/carrot/lettuce for succession plantings. …and boy was I having fun with slugs and snails! By the time I was done over 100 had flying lessons, ending up out in the grass, the driveways, and one really good throw landed one on a neighbor’s roof! There was finally some sun, nearing sunset, and that was very pretty.

I spent the evening doing a little writing, then Tempus and I ate (yes, he was finally up…) and then we were back in bed by 8pm. I had managed to do more chores during the day, got a shopping list done, and got the shower curtain back up (having mislaid the new hooks for some time….), plus did some holes for more cup-hooks, but where did I put the big hooks, fergossakes?

Yesterday started with sun and cloud alternating, after some early drippage that came back just as we headed in to town. A neighbor stopped by with an offer of some lettuce seed that I had to refuse, since I have about 8 packets, myself, but I offered her some geranium starts and I’m going to want to track down another baby aloe….

Between that and collecting laundry we were definitely late at the shop. Thankfully, the customer waiting outside thought it was a hoot. 🙂 I got the Thursday morning newsletter out while watching the Starliner test launch. Tempus had headed out to do the laundry, after getting us coffee. He watched the launch on his phone.

The weird onion before it popped (5/7/22)

We definitely were not busy. The first lady got some books and I had some “lookers” in, plus one fellow who was looking for plant pots. I had a lot of writing to do, so that’s what I put my time in, on. I’m still have some trouble getting around, and lifting. I did take a look around and a lot of the plants are very dry. ….Not good.

Raspberry blossom

Today we should be open at 1pm. Today is definitely a “watering day”. I’m hoping to put some geraniums to take home to brighten up the garden, and maybe to set a few outside at the shop for the same purpose.

Another Ken Gagne pic of an eagle in Yachats this one from 5/12/15


Flowering fern [Royal fern], Osmunda regalis, is today’s plant, dedicated to Saint Osmund. Osmunda regalis belongs to the oxymoronically named flowering fern family, so called because the densely-clustered sporangia resemble flowers. It is said by some to be one of the most handsome European ferns, hence the name. It is widely distributed in Europe, Asia and North America. The ‘Royal Fern’ is also known as the ‘Queen Flower’.  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Osmunda_regalis (pictures are the American variety of this fern)
According to Slavic mythology, the sporangia – called ‘Perun’s flowers’ – have assorted magical powers, such as giving their holders the ability to defeat demons, fulfil wishes, unlock secrets, and understand the language of trees. However, collecting the sporangia is a difficult and frightening process. In earlier traditions, they had to be be collected on Kupala night; later, after the arrival of Christianity, the date is changed to Easter eve. Either way, the person wanting to collect Perun’s flowers must stand within a circle drawn around the plant and withstand the taunting or threats of demons.

Today’s feast is for Mjölnir, the god Thor’s marvelous hammer. The Prose Edda says that with it Thor:


… would be able to strike as firmly as he wanted, whatever his aim, and the hammer would never fail, and if he threw it at something, it would never miss and never fly so far from his hand that it would not find its way back, and when he wanted, it would be so small that it could be carried inside his tunic.

That’s awesome as a tool, let alone a weapon! Today was the day when ritual contests were held in the old Norse traditions, trial by combat, or bardic competitions. More here:  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mj%C3%B6lnir There’s a marvelous article about the Viking Raids into Europe and what caused them, here:  http://freya.theladyofthelabyrinth.com/?page_id=483

magick motif slav Kolovrat Rodnover

Grudie Rosnoe – Traven (May) 20-30 – During these ten days, Volhvs (Magicians, Soothsayers, Sorcerors) bring sacrifices to Rod for rain and for good, productive harvests. (Volhv: a priest of Slavic Paganism; analogous to the scandinavian “Godhi” )

Spring hours are 1-6pm Thurs.-Mon., although we’re often here later as the days get longer. Need something off hours? Give us a call at 541-563-7154 or Facebook message or email at anjasnihova@yahoo.com If we’re supposed to be closed, but it looks like we’re there, try the door. If it’s open, the shop’s open! In case of bad weather, check here at the blog for updates, on our Facebook as Ancient Light, or call the shop.

Love & Light,


Today’s Astro & Calendar

Moon in Capricorn enters Aquarius at 5:53am.

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 5/30 at 4:30am. Waning Gibbous Moon – Best time for draining the energy behind illness, habits or addictions. Magicks of this sort, started now, should be ended before the phase change to the New Moon. – Associated God/dess: Hera/Hero, Cybele, Zeus the Conqueror, Mars/Martius, Anansi, Prometheus. Phase ends at the Quarter on 5/22 at 11:43asm. .

Take a look at Lyra – This star chart shows the locations of both R and T Lyrae, which lie about 6° northeast and 2° southwest of Vega (Alpha [α] Lyrae), respectively. – Astronomy: Roen Kelly

Spring is advancing, and Vega is now nicely up in the east-northeast after dark. Look for its faint little constellation Lyra, the Lyre, hanging down from it with its bottom canted to the right. Lyra’s leading stars form a little equilateral triangle with Vega as one corner, and a parallelogram dangling from the triangle’s bottom.

Draco, Ursa Minor

Look 14° (almost a fist and a half at arm’s length) upper left of Vega for Eltanin, the 2nd-magnitude nose of Draco the Dragon. Closer above and upper left of Eltanin are the three fainter stars forming the rest of Draco’s stick-figure head, also called the Lozenge. Draco always points his nose to Vega no matter how he’s oriented. He seems curious about it. Do dragons eat jewels? He has never made a move on it yet. The faintest star of Draco’s head, opposite Eltanin, is Nu Draconis. It’s a fine, equal-brightness double star for binoculars (separation 61 arcseconds, both magnitude 4.9). The pair is 99 light-years away. Both are hot, chemically peculiar type-Am stars somewhat larger, hotter, and more massive than the Sun.

A globular cluster in the Winged Horse – The ancient globular cluster Messier 15 sits just off the nose of Pegasus. – APAstroLab (Flickr

Early risers can catch the Great Square of Pegasus leaping above the horizon in the few hours leading up to dawn. This large asterism is drawn from the stars Beta, Gamma, and Alpha Pegasi, as well as the “interloper” Alpha Andromedae. When connected, they are meant to represent the Winged Horse’s body, or at least the front half of it. His front legs stretch out and away from Scheat (Beta Pegasi), while his neck extends away from Markab (Alpha Pegasi) and ends at Enif (Epsilon Pegasi), his nose. Note that as the constellation rises in the east, it currently appears upside-down, with Pegasus’ neck on the bottom (closest to the horizon) and legs above it. Although the still-bright Moon is nearby, pull out binoculars or a telescope before dawn starts to break and see if you can locate M15, a globular cluster just off the tip of Pegasus’ nose. It’s located 4° northwest of Enif. This massive, old cluster of stars is the densest globular in the Milky Way. It shines at magnitude 6.2 and covers roughly 18′ on the sky — although in smaller instruments and with a brighter background sky, expect it to appear much smaller, perhaps some 7′ or so.

Venus and Jupiter, magnitudes –4.0 and –2.2 respectively, are the bright “Morning Stars” low in the east in early dawn. Venus is the lower one; Jupiter is increasingly far to Venus’s upper right. They’re separated by 13° on the morning of May 14th, widening to 20° by the 21st.

Runic half-month of Inguz/Ing, 5/14-5/28 – Male consort of Nerthus, the Earth Mother, Ing is god of the hearth. This time of year expresses potential for abundant growth. Nigel Pennick, The Pagan Book of Days, Destiny Books, Rochester, Vermont, USA, 1992, p. 70.

Sun in Taurus enters Gemini at 6:23pm.

Mercury (6/3), Pluto Retrograde (10/8)
Goddess Month of Hera runs from 5/16 – 6/12
Celtic Tree Month of
Huath/Hawthorn, May 13 – Jun 9
Color – Pink
Harvest 5/20&21
©2022 M. Bartlett, Some parts separately copyright


The very old hawthorn at Saint-Mars-sur-la-Futaie, France, planted in the 3rd century!

Celtic Tree Month of Huath/Hawthorn, May 13 – Jun 9 – I am fair among flowers – Color: Purple – Class: Peasant – Letter: H – Meaning: Being held back for a period of time – Hawthorn – Like willows, hawthorns have many species in Europe, and they are not always easy to tell apart. All are thorny shrubs in the Rose family (Rosaceae), and most have whitish or pinkish flowers. The common hawthorn (Crataegus monogyna Jacq.) and midland hawthorn (Crataegus laevigata (Poiret) DC.) are both widespread. They are common in abandoned fields and along the edges of forests. Both are cultivated in North America, as are several native and Asiatic hawthorns. Curtis Clark

Huathe – Hawthorne Ogam letter correspondences
Month: April
Color: Purple
Class: Peasant
Letter: H
Meaning: Being held back for a period of time

to study this month – Ur – Heather and Mistletoe Ogam letter correspondences
Month: None
Color: Purple
Class: Heather is Peasant; Mistletoe is Chieftain
Letter: U
Meaning: Healing and development on the spiritual level.


Tides for Alsea Bay

Day        High      Tide  Height   Sunrise    Moon  Time      % Moon
~            /Low      Time     Feet   Sunset                                    Visible
F   20     High   3:40 AM     8.1   5:44 AM    Rise  1:17 AM      82
~    20      Low  10:58 AM    -1.4   8:43 PM     Set  9:59 AM
~    20     High   5:48 PM     6.4
~    20      Low  11:01 PM     3.2


Affirmation/Thought for the Day – Be happy. It drives people crazy.


Journal Prompt – What does this quote say to you? –  To speak kindly does not hurt the tongue. — proverb



~   If you cannot get rid of the family skeleton, you may as well make it dance. – George Bernard Shaw
~   Things turn out best for those who make the best of the way things turn out. – John Wooden
~   Glorious are the woods in their latest gold and crimson, Yet our full-leaved willows are in the freshest green. Such a kindly autumn, so mercifully dealing With the growths of summer, I never yet have seen. – William Cullen Bryant (1794-1878) US poet and newspaper editor
~   The way you see people is the way you treat them, and the way you treat them is what they become. – Goethe

May-Day, Ralph Waldo Emerson

DAUGHTER 1 of Heaven and Earth, coy Spring,
With sudden passion languishing,
Teaching barren moors to smile,
Painting pictures mile on mile,
Holds a cup with cowslip-wreaths,

Whence a smokeless incense breathes. 2
The air is full of whistlings bland;
What was that I heard
Out of the hazy land?
Harp of the wind, or song of bird, 3

Or vagrant booming of the air,
Voice of a meteor lost in day?
Such tidings of the starry sphere
Can this elastic air convey.
Or haply ’t was the cannonade

Of the pent and darkened lake,
Cooled by the pendent mountain’s shade,
Whose deeps, till beams of noonday break,
Afflicted moan, and latest hold
Even into May the iceberg cold.

Was it a squirrel’s pettish bark,
Or clarionet of jay? or hark
Where yon wedged line the Nestor leads,
Steering north with raucous cry
Through tracts and provinces of sky,

Every night alighting down
In new landscapes of romance,
Where darkling feed the clamorous clans
By lonely lakes to men unknown.
Come the tumult whence it will,

Voice of sport, or rush of wings,
It is a sound, it is a token
That the marble sleep is broken,
And a change has passed on things.
When late I walked, in earlier days,

All was stiff and stark;
Knee-deep snows choked all the ways,
In the sky no spark;
Firm-braced I sought my ancient woods,
Struggling through the drifted roads;

The whited desert knew me not,
Snow-ridges masked each darling spot;
The summer dells, by genius haunted,
One arctic moon had disenchanted.
All the sweet secrets therein hid

By Fancy, ghastly spells undid.
Eldest mason, Frost, had piled
Swift cathedrals in the wild;
The piny hosts were sheeted ghosts
In the star-lit minster aisled.

I found no joy: the icy wind
Might rule the forest to his mind.
Who would freeze on frozen lakes?
Back to books and sheltered home,
And wood-fire flickering on the walls,

To hear, when, ’mid our talk and games,
Without the baffled North-wind calls.
But soft! a sultry morning breaks; 4
The ground-pines wash their rusty green,
The maple-tops their crimson tint,

On the soft path each track is seen,
The girl’s foot leaves its neater print.
The pebble loosened from the frost
Asks of the urchin to be tost.
In flint and marble beats a heart,

The kind Earth takes her children’s part, 5
The green lane is the school-boy’s friend,
Low leaves his quarrel apprehend,
The fresh ground loves his top and ball,
The air rings jocund to his call,

The brimming brook invites a leap,
He dives the hollow, climbs the steep. 6
The youth sees omens where he goes,
And speaks all languages the rose,
The wood-fly mocks with tiny voice

The far halloo of human voice;
The perfumed berry on the spray
Smacks of faint memories far away.
A subtle chain of countless rings
The next into the farthest brings,

And, striving to be man, the worm
Mounts through all the spires of form. 7
  The cagèd linnet in the Spring
Hearkens for the choral glee,
When his fellows on the wing

Migrate from the Southern Sea;
When trellised grapes their flowers unmask,
And the new-born tendrils twine,
The old wine darkling in the cask
Feels the bloom on the living vine,

And bursts the hoops at hint of Spring: 8
And so, perchance, in Adam’s race,
Of Eden’s bower some dream-like trace
Survived the Flight and swam the Flood,
And wakes the wish in youngest blood

To tread the forfeit Paradise,
And feed once more the exile’s eyes;
And ever when the happy child
In May beholds the blooming wild,
And hears in heaven the bluebird sing,

 ‘Onward,’ he cries, ‘your baskets bring,—
In the next field is air more mild,
And o’er yon hazy crest is Eden’s balmier spring.’
  Not for a regiment’s parade,
Nor evil laws or rulers made,

Blue Walden rolls its cannonade,
But for a lofty sign
Which the Zodiac threw,
That the bondage-days are told,
And waters free as winds shall flow. 9

Lo! how all the tribes combine
To rout the flying foe.
See, every patriot oak-leaf throws
His elfin length upon the snows,
Not idle, since the leaf all day

Draws to the spot the solar ray,
Ere sunset quarrying inches down,
And halfway to the mosses brown;
While the grass beneath the rime
Has hints of the propitious time,

And upward pries and perforates
Through the cold slab a thousand gates,
Till green lances peering through
Bend happy in the welkin blue.
  As we thaw frozen flesh with snow,

So Spring will not her time forerun,
Mix polar night with tropic glow,
Nor cloy us with unshaded sun,
Nor wanton skip with bacchic dance,
But she has the temperance

Of the gods, whereof she is one,—
Masks her treasury of heat
Under east winds crossed with sleet.
Plants and birds and humble creatures
Well accept her rule austere;

Titan-born, to hardy natures
Cold is genial and dear.
As Southern wrath to Northern right
Is but straw to anthracite;
As in the day of sacrifice,

When heroes piled the pyre,
The dismal Massachusetts ice
Burned more than others’ fire,
So Spring guards with surface cold
The garnered heat of ages old.

Hers to sow the seed of bread,
That man and all the kinds be fed;
And, when the sunlight fills the hours,
Dissolves the crust, displays the flowers.
  Beneath the calm, within the light,

A hid unruly appetite
Of swifter life, a surer hope,
Strains every sense to larger scope,
Impatient to anticipate
The halting steps of aged Fate.

Slow grows the palm, too slow the pearl:
When Nature falters, fain would zeal
Grasp the felloes of her wheel,
And grasping give the orbs another whirl.
Turn swiftlier round, O tardy ball!

And sun this frozen side.
Bring hither back the robin’s call,
Bring back the tulip’s pride.
  Why chidest thou the tardy Spring?
The hardy bunting does not chide;

The blackbirds make the maples ring
With social cheer and jubilee;
The redwing flutes his o-ka-lee,
The robins know the melting snow;
The sparrow meek, prophetic-eyed,

Her nest beside the snow-drift weaves,
Secure the osier yet will hide
Her callow brood in mantling leaves,—
And thou, by science all undone,
Why only must thy reason fail

To see the southing of the sun? 10
  The world rolls round,—mistrust it not,—
Befalls again what once befell;
All things return, both sphere and mote,
And I shall hear my bluebird’s note,

And dream the dream of Auburn dell. 11
  April cold with dropping rain
Willows and lilacs brings again,
The whistle of returning birds,
And trumpet-lowing of the herds.

The scarlet maple-keys betray
What potent blood hath modest May,
What fiery force the earth renews,
The wealth of forms, the flush of hues;
What joy in rosy waves outpoured

Flows from the heart of Love, the Lord.
  Hither rolls the storm of heat;
I feel its finer billows beat
Like a sea which me infolds; 12
Heat with viewless fingers moulds,

Swells, and mellows, and matures,
Paints, and flavors, and allures,
Bird and brier inly warms,
Still enriches and transforms,
Gives the reed and lily length,

Adds to oak and oxen strength, 13
Transforming what it doth infold,
Life out of death, new out of old,
Painting fawns’ and leopards’ fells,
Seethes the gulf-encrimsoning shells,

Fires gardens with a joyful blaze
Of tulips, in the morning’s rays.
The dead log touched bursts into leaf,
The wheat-blade whispers of the sheaf.
What god is this imperial Heat,

Earth’s prime secret, sculpture’s seat?
Doth it bear hidden in its heart
Water-line patterns of all art?
Is it Dædalus? is it Love?
Or walks in mask almighty Jove,

And drops from Power’s redundant horn
All seeds of beauty to be born?
  Where shall we keep the holiday,
And duly greet the entering May?
Too strait and low our cottage doors,

And all unmeet our carpet floors;
Nor spacious court, nor monarch’s hall,
Suffice to hold the festival.
Up and away! where haughty woods
Front the liberated floods:

We will climb the broad-backed hills,
Hear the uproar of their joy;
We will mark the leaps and gleams
Of the new-delivered streams,
And the murmuring rivers of sap

Mount in the pipes of the trees,
Giddy with day, to the topmost spire,
Which for a spike of tender green
Bartered its powdery cap;
And the colors of joy in the bird,

And the love in its carol heard,
Frog and lizard in holiday coats,
And turtle brave in his golden spots;
While cheerful cries of crag and plain
Reply to the thunder of river and main. 14

  As poured the flood of the ancient sea
Spilling over mountain chains,
Bending forests as bends the sedge,
Faster flowing o’er the plains,—
A world-wide wave with a foaming edge

That rims the running silver sheet,—
So pours the deluge of the heat
Broad northward o’er the land,
Painting artless paradises,
Drugging herbs with Syrian spices, 15

Fanning secret fires which glow
In columbine and clover-blow,
Climbing the northern zones,
Where a thousand pallid towns
Lie like cockles by the main,

Or tented armies on a plain.
The million-handed sculptor moulds
Quaintest bud and blossom folds,
The million-handed painter pours
Opal hues and purple dye;

Azaleas flush the island floors,
And the tints of heaven reply.
  Wreaths for the May! for happy Spring
To-day shall all her dowry bring,
The love of kind, the joy, the grace,

Hymen of element and race,
Knowing well to celebrate
With song and hue and star and state,
With tender light and youthful cheer,
The spousals of the new-born year.

  Spring is strong and virtuous,
Broad-sowing, cheerful, plenteous,
Quickening underneath the mould
Grains beyond the price of gold.
So deep and large her bounties are,

That one broad, long midsummer day
Shall to the planet overpay
The savage of a year of war.
  Drug the cup, thou butler sweet,
And send the nectar round;

The feet that slid so long on sleet
Are glad to feel the ground.
Fill and saturate each kind
With good according to its mind,
Fill each kind and saturate

With good agreeing with its fate,
And soft perfection of its plan—
Willow and violet, maiden and man.
  The bitter-sweet, the haunting air
Creepeth, bloweth everywhere;

It preys on all, all prey on it,
Blooms in beauty, thinks in wit,
Stings the strong with enterprise,
Makes travellers long for Indian skies,
And where it comes this courier fleet

Fans in all hearts expectance sweet,
As if to-morrow should redeem
The vanished rose of evening’s dream.
By houses lies a fresher green,
On men and maids a ruddier mien,

As if Time brought a new relay
Of shining virgins every May,
And Summer came to ripen maids
To a beauty that not fades.

  I saw the bud-crowned Spring go forth,
Stepping daily onward north
To greet staid ancient cavaliers

Filing single in stately train.
And who, and who are the travellers?
They were Night and Day, and Day and Night,

Pilgrims wight with step forthright.
I saw the Days deformed and low,
Short and bent by cold and snow;
The merry Spring threw wreaths on them,
Flower-wreaths gay with bud and bell;

Many a flower and many a gem,
They were refreshed by the smell,
They shook the snow from hats and shoon,
They put their April raiment on;
And those eternal forms,

Unhurt by a thousand storms,
Shot up to the height of the sky again,
And danced as merrily as young men.
I saw them mask their awful glance
Sidewise meek in gossamer lids;

And to speak my thought if none forbids
It was as if the eternal gods,
Tired of their starry periods,
Hid their majesty in cloth
Woven of tulips and painted moth.

On carpets green the maskers march
Below May’s well-appointed arch,
Each star, each god, each grace amain,
Every joy and virtue speed,
Marching duly in her train,

And fainting Nature at her need
Is made whole again. 16
‘T was the vintage-day of field and wood,
When magic wine for bards is brewed;
Every tree and stem and chink

Gushed with syrup to the brink.
The air stole into the streets of towns,
Refreshed the wise, reformed the clowns,
And betrayed the fund of joy
To the high-school and medalled boy:

On from hall to chamber ran,
From youth to maid, from boy to man,
To babes, and to old eyes as well.
‘Once more,’ the old man cried, ‘ye clouds,
Airy turrets purple-piled,

Which once my infancy beguiled,
Beguile me with the wonted spell.
I know ye skilful to convoy
The total freight of hope and joy
Into rude and homely nooks,

Shed mocking lustres on shelf of books,
On farmer’s byre, on pasture rude,
And stony pathway to the wood.
I care not if the pomps you show
Be what they soothfast appear,

Or if yon realms in sunset glow
Be bubbles of the atmosphere.
And if it be to you allowed
To fool me with a shining cloud,
So only new griefs are consoled

By new delights, as old by old,
Frankly I will be your guest,
Count your change and cheer the best.
The world hath overmuch of pain,—
If Nature give me joy again,

Of such deceit I ’ll not complain.’
Ah! well I mind the calendar,
Faithful through a thousand years,
Of the painted race of flowers,Exact
 to days, exact to hours,

Counted on the spacious dial
Yon broidered zodiac girds.
I know the trusty almanac
Of the punctual coming-back,
On their due days, of the birds.

I marked them yestermorn,
A flock of finches darting
Beneath the crystal arch,
Piping, as they flew, a march,—
Belike the one they used in parting

Last year from yon oak or larch;
Dusky sparrows in a crowd,
Diving, darting northward free,
Suddenly betook them all,
Every one to his hole in the wall,

Or to his niche in the apple-tree.
I greet with joy the choral trains
Fresh from palms and Cuba’s canes.
Best gems of Nature’s cabinet,
With dews of tropic morning wet,

Beloved of children, bards and Spring,
O birds, your perfect virtues bring,
Your song, your forms, your rhythmic flight,
Your manners for the heart’s delight,
Nestle in hedge, or barn, or roof,

Here weave your chamber weather-proof,
Forgive our harms, and condescend
To man, as to a lubber friend,
And, generous, teach his awkward race
Courage and probity and grace! 17

  Poets praise that hidden wine
Hid in milk we drew
At the barrier of Time,
When our life was new.
We had eaten fairy fruit,

We were quick from head to foot,
All the forms we looked on shone
As with diamond dews thereon.
What cared we for costly joys,
The Museum’s far-fetched toys?

Gleam of sunshine on the wall
Poured a deeper cheer than all
The revels of the Carnival.
We a pine-grove did prefer
To a marble theatre,

Could with gods on mallows dine,
Nor cared for spices or for wine.
Wreaths of mist and rainbow spanned,
Arch on arch, the grimmest land;
Whistle of a woodland bird

Made the pulses dance,
Note of horn in valleys heard
Filled the region with romance.
None can tell how sweet,
How virtuous, the morning air;

Every accent vibrates well;
Not alone the wood-bird’s call,
Or shouting boys that chase their ball,
Pass the height of minstrel skill,
But the ploughman’s thoughtless cry,

Lowing oxen, sheep that bleat,
And the joiner’s hammer-beat,
Softened are above their will,
Take tones from groves they wandered through
Or flutes which passing angels blew.

All grating discords melt,
No dissonant note is dealt,
And though thy voice be shrill
Like rasping file on steel,
Such is the temper of the air,

Echo waits with art and care,
And will the faults of song repair.
So by remote Superior Lake,
And by resounding Mackinac,
When northern storms the forest shake,

And billows on the long beach break,
The artful Air will separate
Note by note all sounds that grate,
Smothering in her ample breast
All but godlike words,

Reporting to the happy ear
Only purified accords.
Strangely wrought from barking waves,
Soft music daunts the Indian braves,—
Convent-chanting which the child

Hears pealing from the panther’s cave
And the impenetrable wild. 18
Soft on the South-wind sleeps the haze:
So on thy broad mystic van
Lie the opal-colored days,

And waft the miracle to man.
Soothsayer of the eldest gods,
Repairer of what harms betide,
Revealer of the inmost powers
Prometheus proffered, Jove denied;

Disclosing treasures more than true,
Or in what far to-morrow due;

Speaking by the tongues of flowers,
By the ten-tongued laurel speaking,
Singing by the oriole songs,

Heart of bird the man’s heart seeking;
Whispering hints of treasure hid
Under Morn’s unlifted lid,
Islands looming just beyond
The dim horizon’s utmost bound;—

Who can, like thee, our rags upbraid,
Or taunt us with our hope decayed?
Or who like thee persuade,
Making the splendor of the air,
The morn and sparkling dew, a snare?

Or who resent
Thy genius, wiles and blandishment?
There is no orator prevails
To beckon or persuade
Like thee the youth or maid: 19

Thy birds, thy songs, thy brooks, thy gales,
Thy blooms, thy kinds,
Thy echoes in the wilderness,
Soothe pain, and age, and love’s distress,
Fire fainting will, and build heroic minds.

  For thou, O Spring! canst renovate
All that high God did first create.
Be still his arm and architect,
Rebuild the ruin, mend defect;
Chemist to vamp old worlds with new,

Coat sea and sky with heavenlier blue,
New tint the plumage of the birds,
And slough decay from grazing herds,
Sweep ruins from the scarped mountain,
Cleanse the torrent at the fountain,

Purge alpine air by towns defiled,
Bring to fair mother fairer child,
Not less renew the heart and brain,
Scatter the sloth, wash out the stain,
Make the aged eye sun-clear,

To parting soul bring grandeur near.
Under gentle types, my Spring
Masks the might of Nature’s king,
An energy that searches thorough
From Chaos to the dawning morrow;

Into all our human plight,
The soul’s pilgrimage and flight;
In city or in solitude,
Step by step, lifts bad to good,
Without halting, without rest,

Lifting Better up to Best;
Planting seeds of knowledge pure,
Through earth to ripen, through heaven endure.


Litha Magick – Recipes

Midsummer Oil – Put in soap or anoint candles http://www.fortunecity.com/greenfield/tigris/567/id20.htm

  • 5 drops lavender
  • 4 drops rosemary
  • 4 drops rose

Add a piece of dried vervain, a small citrine, clear quartz crystal, and a sprinkle of gold glitter. So magical and beautiful!

Midsummer Incensehttp://www.geocities.com/Athens/Parthenon/7039/AshlinCB.html

  • 2 Parts Sandalwood
  • 1 Part Camomile
  • 1 Part Gardenia petals
  • few drops Rose oil
  • few drops Lavender oil
  • few drops yarrow oil


Midsummer Incense Recipes by Scott Cunningham – http://www.fortunecity.com/greenfield/tigris/567/id20.htm

Midsummer Incense #1:

  • 2 parts Sandalwood
  • 1 part Mugwort
  • 1 part Chamomile
  • 1 part Gardenia petals
  • a few drops Rose oil
  • a few drops Lavender oil
  • a few drops Yarrow oil

Burn at Wiccan rituals at the Summer Solstice (circa June 21st) or at that time to attune with the seasons and the Sun.

Midsummer Incense #2:

  • 3 parts Frankincense
  • 2 parts Benzoin
  • 1 part Dragon’s Blood
  • 1 part Thyme
  • 1 part Rosemary
  • 1 pinch Vervain
  • a few drops Red Wine

Another like the above.

(The above recipe for “Midsummer Incense” is quoted directly from Scott Cunningham’s book “The Complete Book of Incenses, Oils & Brews”, page 80, Llewellyn Publications, 1989/1992.)


Silliness – Nothing Makes Sense

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