Archives

Gemini Full Moon

Dec4

I was grateful today for abundant sunshine to charge the solar panels and melt a little ice once I’d shoveled the paths again. And to lift the spirits of many of us.

I was astonished to look out the west window and see a doe chewing on an old shed antler that was ornamenting the garden. She munched on it for a long time while her fawn nibbled some leaves under the snow. It reminded me it was lunchtime.

Today I was grateful for the last two slices of bread which I dressed with peanut butter and jam. But yesterday, as cold and grey as it was, I was really happy to make a grilled cheese sandwich. I used mayo on both slices but then remembered I had a smidge of that tomato butter Amy and I made back in September. I’d pulled it from the freezer to make room for turkey stock and been using it up all week. So I spread that on one side, layered cheddar and Havarti on the other, and closed the sandwich. Then I tried a trick we’d seen on Instagram, to spread mashed potatoes on the outsides of the bread before grilling.

It must have not been the right kind of potato. It looked great, but the bread was actually less crispy than a usual butter or mayo grilled cheese. I topped it with the single harvest from the hydroponic tomato experiment, which also looked great but felt like a little marble so I gave it to Wren for last bite.

My little philosopher…

It was a lovely day. After lunch I edited some meditations, including this one from my dear departed friend Cynthia Wilcox. The timing was perfect for “Sensing into Boundaries.” As I was editing it someone came to the door that I just couldn’t attend to in that moment and Cindy’s guidance supported me.

And before I knew it, the short day was over. I made sure not to miss the rising of the Gemini Full Moon, whatever that means. A friend had mentioned it this morning as meaningful to her, and later texted after she watched it rise six hours earlier in London. I’d been upstairs waiting for it but remembered I had to run out and dump the birdbath before it froze, and just as I got there the moon peeked over the mountains.

The birdbath was already frozen. We came inside after this shot. I love how the farthest peaks of Mount Gunnison are still in alpenglow and the moon highlights a ridge I’d never realized was part of the distant mountain.

These last two are through the window so there’s a bit of distortion. I considered what my friend had said, and looked up the significance of this moon. Yoga Journal offered a full and mindful analysis from which I’ve excerpted this:

“What makes this full Moon particularly potent is how Gemini teaches us that reality is malleable. The stories we tell ourselves about who we are, what is possible for us, and what we deserve directly shape our experiences. When we change our internal narrative, we change our external world. This is the secret power of Gemini—it shows us that a simple shift in perspective can unlock doors we didn’t even know existed.”

Sparkles

Dec3

It’s hard to take anything personally from this perspective! This image is from The Atlantic’s 2025 Space Telescope Advent Calendar. This is Day 3’s offering, showing more than a hundred galaxies in Galaxy Cluster Abell 209, about 2.8 billion light-years away from my tiny speck of a life. Refreshing! I’ve always loved sparkles.

“Peace isn’t found in perfect conditions. Peace is found in how we care for one another, in the bonds we share, in the kindness we extend to all beings. Even in winter, love keeps us warm.”

Today was the first day I remembered to check in first thing with the Venerable Monks on their Walk for Peace. It’s been cold and rainy as they wend their way through Louisiana, some of them barefoot, some in socks and sandals, some with canes, walking to spread peace on earth. Between these macro and micro perspectives, I feel humbly grateful for this precious day that will never come again.

Aurora Borealis at Last!

Nov11

A million years ago from a house at the base of Needle Rock, I sort of saw the northern lights. So faint. But tonight, the lights came bright, and amplified by the miracle of the iPhone camera.

The quotidian delights have been adding up the past few days, and I’ve been moving too fast and ending the day too tired to share them. Kind people, new trees, cheese sandwiches, fall colors… Tonight I was prepared to knuckle down and sort some photos, and offer gratitude for all the moments and for the gift of another grateful gathering.

But then, thanks to two friends who separately alerted me to the powerful geomagnetic storm lighting up the sky, I spent an hour freezing on my deck watching, savoring, in awe and wonder. The photo above is a standard automatic iPhone shot, 1/15s, f1.78, ISO 12500, and reflects more or less what I saw with the naked eye.

The rest of the pictures were shot with the three-second exposure feature at various zooms over the course of the hour. I ducked inside to grab a blanket and sat in silence with the tiny dingo wrapped up in my lap. It was a perfect opportunity to practice sensation without interpretation: simply being. But it was too cold, and once the colors faded some we came back inside.

The Aurora forecast map for tonight and tomorrow night doesn’t show much likelihood of seeing it as far south as central Colorado, but I don’t trust those government websites anymore anyway. I can only imagine the stunning photos from farther north that will populate the media tomorrow.

I’m grateful for and content with the magnificent gift of being alive on this November night. And I’ll sure be paying closer attention to the sky tomorrow at sunset.

Clarity and Tenderness

Nov5

Wren made a new little friend this evening when a neighbor spontaneously stopped by to check out a potential job upgrading the pond patio. Oddly, I had dreamt last night about her playing with a visiting chihuahua.

He and his little dog left just before the supermoon rose and we hurried up to the balcony to watch. Astrologically, I’m told, it’s a very special full moon in Taurus, giving us the opportunity to bring clarity and tenderness to our spirit and heart, and reflect on what we really want.

I’m grateful that Americans in many elections yesterday voted for what I really want, which is compassionate leadership. May clarity and tenderness prevail!

My Little Town

Dec7
Sometimes a cheese sandwich is just a cheese sandwich.

Even though it’s no more ‘my’ town than this ‘identity’ I refer to as ‘I,’ I think of it as my little town. It’s the closest to me, just a few miles away, and has almost anything anyone could need in a town: a couple of restaurants, a post office, and a general store, among other amenities. And just a few miles beyond, the last gas for 80 miles south.

I needed to vacuum the residue of another pack rat nest out of the air duct system hidden beyond the glove box. I’m grateful I learned how to replace the cabin air filter years ago, so I can change it whenever mice nest in the hollows or in this case a pack rat fills the duct with leaves and twigs. I’d already pulled most of them out by hand, so I drove up to town this morning to use the car wash vacuum, still only a dollar in quarters thirty years on from the first time I used it.

It was a morning filled with brief and cheerful interactions, once I survived the pickup with trailer speeding down the middle of the narrow winding road out of the canyon. Other drivers, and there were a surprising number of them, smiled and waved as we passed each other.

A woman pulled up at the other vacuum right after me, with a Wren-sized longhaired dog between the front seats. I’d left Wren at home because of how she responds to the house vacuum. I was amazed at the calm of this dog as her person reached in with the noisy hose, and after we were both finished I said I was impressed. We chatted a minute with smiles and she said “glad to meet another dog lover!” A man in the wash bay smiled and asked, “Did you git ‘er done?”

At the post office, Patrice was more helpful than she needed to be, and at the general store a nice young lady led me to mouse traps and read the fine print for me on a balsam fir mouse repellent. It only occurred to me as I was driving home that maybe these people were extra nice because I was using a cane. Or maybe it was simply because I was pleasant and smiling at them, too.

View from the post office of the long trek to the general store…

I was especially grateful for the choice I made to walk from the PO to the store —a whopping fifty yards— a distance I have driven for many years simply to minimize steps because walking hurt so much; and it was on the way home. I looked from the PO uphill to the store and thought, hey, I can walk that now! What a simple joy it was to stroll that short distance on smooth pavement, and carry my small purchases back down the hill to the car, on a sunny, mild day in my bustling little town.

…and the view back down the hill to my little blue car.
Two nights ago I played with some more night shots, and this was the best of the new moon with Venus over the trees. Nothing to write home about. But fun to try to capture! I was inspired to try by Robert Hubbell’s daily dose of perspective that morning, of the moon the night before (below): Knowing I could not come remotely close. I am sure grateful for living with dark sky.
Just for fun, since WordPress gives the option when you add a photo, I chose the option to let AI generate an image. I specified “new moon with Venus over tree.” AI at least did not do as well as I did! It’s second attempt with the same instruction was a glorious full moon. Give me iPhone or Hubbell any night.

Perspective

Nov23
Wren enjoys an eagle-eye perspective of the canyon.

Little Wren has been so patient, for so many months. She hasn’t enjoyed a proper long walk for at least three months, and barely any for many moons before that. I’m grateful to Ellie for accompanying me to the canyon rim yesterday for the first time since before surgery. Winter weather is coming again next week, and who knows what will happen after that; I certainly don’t. So I wanted to be sure and visit our little canyon before deep snows might limit our walks. Our jaunt yesterday went so well that Wren and I went back alone this afternoon. I felt so strong that we did the medium loop, but on our way back south along the rim I kind of wished I hadn’t been so ambitious. No matter. I rested. She ran around. We made it home safely just after sunset.

Our sun just one of multitudes…

I’ve been playing around with my new phone after dark, keeping things in perspective, ever since Dawn shared a photo she got with her iPhone of the Aurora Borealis some weeks ago. I missed that event, but the stars the past few nights have been incredible. Orion has always been my favorite constellation, maybe because I learned it first at a very young age, so I have been trying to capture him and his faithful dogstar Sirius. the past couple of nights Sirius wasn’t up yet when I played, but Orion was (above: near center, below: lower half), and the Pleiades (below: top center).

Looking at the stars and remembering my place, our place, in the cosmos, has long been a comfort to me. Knowing that some of the ‘stars’ are actually multiples of stars, or nebulae, or galaxies filled with multitudes more stars, helps me keep things in perspective. On the one hand, my little life is utterly insignificant, and even this whole planet is no big deal in the universe. On the other hand, as far as we know, for certain, Life is only on Earth. We don’t know that there aren’t other planets alive with biodiversity; we simply don’t know that there are. We could be on track as a single species to eradicate ourselves and decimate the miracle of life on earth, and in so doing, destroy most of the life in the entire universe. Who knows? So, looking up into the vast space of night helps me remember to savor all life, as well as my own life, but also not to take myself too seriously.

I’m grateful there are people in my orbit with far better cameras than mine who know far more about the universe, and sometimes share their pictures with us, including R. Hubbell, who has taken to offering a Daily Dose of Perspective in his newsletter on Substack. His image above is a gazillion times zoomed in on the middle ‘star’ in Orion’s sword; the one in my photos that looks a little bigger and more blurred than the rest of Orion’s stars. Now that’s perspective! And perspective can help those of us fortunate enough to have the luxury of it, to navigate the next couple of years in this country. Death is certain, time of death uncertain. Breathe. Love who and what you love. Help wherever you can, however you can. Savor each precious day you wake up alive. Practice gratitude.

Another great perspective provider is living with a cat. Dear Topaz, sitting sweetly on my lap one minute, slicing my hand with her claw the next. In ancient Egypt cats were worshipped as gods — and cats have never forgotten this.

Our Visible Universe

Oct22

I’m grateful today that I got to make Fried Artichoke Sandwiches for Boyz Lunch. The recipe came to my attention a couple of months ago, but it wasn’t until this week that I had (almost) all the ingredients to make it. There was no organic red cabbage, so I substituted green; and there were no more dill pickle slices in the pantry, so I used dill pickle relish. The overall effect was, I assume, essentially what was intended. I was grateful, as always, to have the right tools for the job, notably the Fry Baby to deep fry the battered artichoke hearts. I served the sandwiches with smashed, roasted potatoes. It was a simple lunch, and so delicious that the Boyz put it on their short list and said I could make it again any time. If I only had an actual short list, it would include several dozen ‘Top Five’!

The slaw is made with vegan jalapeño-ranch dressing, but I just used regular mayo, Penzeys ranch seasoning, and one pickled jalapeño, along with the fresh lime juice.
It certainly fulfilled my craving for a fried fish sandwich; all I really wanted was the crunchy, light ‘meat’ and the drippy coleslaw. The artichoke flavor was a bonus. Life’s simple pleasures!
Dessert was easy: one giant Trail Mix cookie for each of us. It was a perfect fall day, with perfect weather, great food, and wonderful company.

Later, after lunch, cleanup, and a work meeting, Wren and I sat by the pond and read a little more of our gripping nine-hundred-page novel, the third in The Liveship Traders trilogy by Robin Hobb. I’m grateful for the luxury of being able to toggle between the fantasy world of a novel, and the real world of my back yard which is just as amazing. Tonight we sat outside for half an hour under a blanket watching for shooting stars of the Orionid meteor shower. We only saw one before it got too chilly, but I was grateful to know about this celestial event and to spend some quiet time under the indifferent immensity of our visible universe.

Apricots

Aug2
Awwww… it was three years ago this month that my precious Ojo’s life was ended by a mountain lion… He was such a special cat. And I guess it was a banner apricot year in 2019 also, when this was taken. I still miss him. I’d give up all the apricots forever just to have him back with us.

My view of the Supermoon last night. I’m grateful for living in the country where I can step outside and experience a wild, natural nighttime. After a night sky break, I came in and made dessert for today, yogurt-lemon curd popsicles.

Continuing to eat down the meat in the freezer, I thawed a couple of lamb shanks overnight and braised them in red wine and vegetables, then reduced the broth and shredded the meat, made a biscuit topping, and baked a delicious lamb pot-pie. For my first pot-pie ever I was real pleased with it.

The Boyz loved the pops but I think they were more trouble than they were worth. Philip tries to warm the mold so we can pull them out. Next popsicles will be simpler.
My little baromewren had a rough day: during lunch a neighbor was shooting so she sought refuge in a corner of the patio; this evening we were blessed with a thunderstorm including actual RAIN, and she’s been huddled in a pile of towels in the laundry room since before sunset.

After Buddha School and Bibliofillies zooms I got outside just in the nick of time to pick two baskets of fruit before the storm rolled in. I gave away most of what I picked the other night, but quickly replenished the stockpile. From now on for a few weeks it will be all-apricot-all the time: lunch, breakfast, cocktail… and anywhere else I can think to use them. I’ve pencilled in Saturday to make the first batch of jam.

Things We Never Knew

Jan26
A photo from Singing Mountain Observatory just down the road from me on Fruitloop Mesa, four days ago. Thanks to George Dunham for permission to share his beautiful image of comet C/2022 E3 (ZTF).

I’m grateful for so much today, starting with the middle of last night. Just before I crawled into my cozy bed, for which I am always ever so grateful, I stepped outside on the deck with binoculars to see if I could see comet C/2022 E3 (ZTF). I don’t even need to know what that name means, except that I do know it was discovered less than a year ago as it approaches Earth for the first time in roughly 50,000 years. How exciting is that? I’m grateful for things we never knew.

Once I finally figured out where the Little Dipper is, which I never bothered to learn, it was easy to find the comet, and a thrill to observe it even though it was just a bright smudge in the dark sky through my birding binoculars. It will be another few days before it reaches its perigee, but it might be visible to the naked eye tonight in a dark enough sky. Last night, at 12℉ with a faint cloud cover, I didn’t stay out long. Talk about perspective though! I love the cosmos for putting me in my place.

I am little ashamed of myself that I boycotted the sciences in college because of judging the credit system to be unfair. It seemed wrong that should get three credits for three one-hour classes in English, and three credits for three one-hour classes PLUS a four-hour lab once a week in most of the sciences. I was also attached to what I knew, and I resisted the idea that in science, what we know changes constantly. I wanted to learn something and have that be that. That ridiculous bias faded through the years of simply living and recognizing the impermanence of everything, and now I kinda wish I had studied science more intensely. However, it’s been my hobby for decades, and one delight has been the night sky. For the requisite science course, I took Astronomy/Cosmology, which did not have a lab requirement, with a fabulous professor named Hans von Baeyer. I had a massive crush on him, and loved that he sent us out overnight to keep a star and planet log. I went with my new boyfriend and it’s one of the happiest memories of my college life, dozing and waking in our sleeping bags through the night to keep my log. I’m a fool for physicists still. Not the boyfriend, he was a sports writer who enjoyed a long career in that pursuit; I mean my crush on Hans and a couple of other physicists through the years.

I’m grateful that Wren had a rather uneventful vet visit today, with good heart and lung sounds, and the sad news that she is a little too chunky for her health. This did not come as a surprise, and it’s going to be hard to cut back on her treats, but she needs to lose a couple of pounds. She didn’t get even a tiny taste of the Sonic shake despite her best efforts at persuasion. She also has a little freckle on her belly that has been growing since I noticed it a few months ago. Dr. Emily measured it at 1.5 mm and told me to come back in six months or if it reaches 3 mm, whichever comes soonest. She mentioned the risks that come with anesthesia and didn’t want to do an unnecessary biopsy. So we wait and see, and hopefully it stops growing and is just a freckle.

And finally, after leaving out a dozen other quotidian things I’m grateful for today, I’m grateful for maybe the best loaf of bread so far. It freezes well so in the morning I’ll slice it and freeze half, and enjoy sandwiches and French toast for a couple of weeks.

Relaxing

Jan9
Wren is as happy to see Dr. Leigh as I am. I’m grateful she works on a Sunday. Town was empty; there was no one at the gas station so it was easy to fill up. I’m grateful I can afford to fill up, and that I have a car to fill up…

I was so grateful when I first learned that relaxation is a skill that we need to practice. I’m grateful to have various means available to facilitate my relaxation practice, including a gentle chiropractor with a magic touch.

I’m grateful I could come home and relax with a quick pizza, small homemade crust from the freezer and some random toppings. I cooked down a dollop of plain sauce with a mix of dried herbs and garlic slices, sliced some red onion, martini olives, and the last of the summer’s spicy dill pickles, and topped with shredded mozzarella. Baked to perfection! After lunch I enjoyed a nearly perfect homemade creme brûlée, relaxing with a sense of great satisfaction that I finally ticked that recipe off my bucket list.

I spent a little time relaxing outside with the cameraphone, finally managing to get the moon halfway decently with iPhone alone. I’ve figured out the technique, and identified a challenge with rural living. I’m supposed to focus the camera first on a streetlamp, that’s what the tutorial said. My patio light isn’t bright enough or far enough away to lock the exposure and focus accurately to capture the moon when the lens is turned on it. There was a light cloud cover, which helped; the other night it was so bright the camera captured only a blinding white circle. I’m grateful I get to relax both outside and inside my house.

Relaxing after the moon shot with a bitters and soda, garnished with a slice of rangpur lime. I’m grateful this special little citrus fruit made it from Florida to my kitchen to remind me of the tricks our memories can play–you learn something new every day!