Hecate’s Moon

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Hecate’s Moon

is the piercing thorn

of a wilted white rose.

 

Frost covered, she rises over

bare trees shorn of leaves –

crackling obscenities.

 

Fog obscures her face,

obliterating any attempt

to categorize or capture essence.

 

Blood stains the river

that flows unimpeded

in this crack between her

worlds.

 

Listen, and you will hear

wild cats screech,

coyotes howl,

owls shriek.

 

I lay low.

 

She is what She Is,

A force to be reckoned with,

this Dark Side of

the Moon.

 

 

Working notes:

 

So many feminist spiritual traditions attempt to lighten the dark powers of this (Greek) mythological underworld figure who is multi -valenced and can be found in some form in every mythology. She lives underground seething in  silence and acts as a bridge between above and below as she moves between worlds. She slices our nights in two – living through the dreamtime – a specter unseen but experienced when the Earth turns dark. I think she comes now not because of the changing seasons but because gun violence*, rape, and the deaths of thousands of innocent people, trees, plants, seeds, and animals have become the new “normal.” Unspeakable acts of horror have come to define who we are as a people.

 

Hecate is, above all, the transformer holding living and dying in precarious balance until the scales tip too far. When she steps in with a scythe in her hand, beware because her force is deadly, and none are spared. Hecate’s wrath is boundless, her time draws near…

 

This month Hecate’s appearance also informs us that the end of the year is almost upon us. Her Full Moon, and the Feast of the Dead which is held over the last days of this month and stretches into November, ushers us into her world – a three way crossroad – Cairns mark the place between that which has gone before, the present moment, and whatever is destined to come.

 

Hooded, she walks alone and we spin through her once starry spirals turned to dust in dense matter. Spirals, patterns in Nature, remind us that as we spin out of control we are destined to implode.

 

*Note: in the middle of writing about gun violence at twilight, massive machine gun explosions cause us ( my dogs and me) to jump out of our animal skins. We live in a war zone,  one as yet, legally undefined.

The next morning hounds howl in a frenzy as they tree a hapless bear who will then be shot.

The Gathering In

Seed gathering is my way of preparing for winter and for a season of stillness and quiet. The sun rises lower and lower over the horizon each dawn. This year light is filtered through trees that are losing leaves to drought and not to the natural process of chlorophyll withdrawal. But the light is still extraordinarily beautiful as it illuminates each branch and leaf, creating mosaic patterns on patches of parched dry ground.

Yesterday we had a light frost and I brought the last of my nasturtium and bean seeds indoors to dry upstairs in preparation for next summer’s garden.

While I collect seeds, explosive gunshots pierce the air in my backyard.

Bumper stickers warn me, “Don’t interfere with ‘our right’ to bare arms.” A threat? Apparently, having the “right to kill” is all many people think about.

I am never free of the awareness that death is in the air.

This morning I had an email from my friend and feminist artist Sabra Moore who lives in Abiquiu, New Mexico.

She writes:

“All the news is terrifying – I feel like Trump is, each week, becoming more unstable so I am keeping hold of the harvest here.”

I immediately thought to myself that “keeping hold of the harvest” is a way to deal with our current political insanity.

Unfortunately for me, the harvest is over.

Below: Artist/writer Sabra Moore in her garden

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Little Wild Hedgehog

 

 

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(Above: The Crowning)

When I first moved to Abiquiu in 2016 I was living in the hills and was exploring the arroyos and surrounding Juniper scrub when I discovered a desiccated little hedgehog cactus somewhat hidden under a Juniper’s canopy. Thus far I hadn’t seen any cacti at all except for cholla and prickly pear so I was somewhat surprised by this hedgehog’ s appearance. I decided to transplant the cactus into a pot and dug it up, watered it, replanted it and left it on my outdoor step in partial shade (now I know that it is wiser to uproot the cactus and lay it on its side to rest in the shade for about a week before re-potting to insure that the roots heal to protect them from parasites). For the rest of the fall and winter it just sat there sort of shriveled on one side and I wondered if I had made a mistake.

When we (my dogs and telepathic bird, Lily b) were finally forced out of this inhospitable rental (without heat or a stove to cook on) in mid February by a terrifying fire I took the cactus with me, not wanting to leave it in such an unfriendly place. I re-potted it again, this time in a smaller container and left it outside at our new home by the river. Soon I discovered more wild (pincushion) cactus growing on the mountain slopes, dug them up along with bits of their rocky soil and added them to the solitary hedgehog who sat on a bench outdoors (Each cactus was surrounded by bits of rock that I had taken from the site where I found them, along with their native soil). I inspected the little cactus community each day when I stepped out of the trailercita. Was it my imagination or were the cactus responding to my attention? I watered them sparingly and gave each some fertilizer. By early April, I noted an amazing change in the hedgehog. She grew plump and turned a brighter green, her damaged tissue on one side seemingly repairing itself. I was absolutely thrilled. This little cactus had decided to live! Showering heaps of attention on all my spiny companions, the rest of which were also doing well (I had five in all), I often reflected upon how little it takes to make a plant or animal thrive. And how heroic these wild plants are, subsisting on so little taking what minerals and other sources of nourishment they can from the rubble around them, while leaving the cactus vulnerable to whatever the weather might bring – harsh winds, thirst, hunger, snow, or ice.

It seemed to me that these tough little cacti were a model for survival that a person could emulate if s/he chose.

Imagine my astonishment when I first discovered the tell tale bumps on the two wild pincushion plants that would one day become flowers. It was mid April now and the sun was hot and each dawn broke into deep cobalt blue skies. I began to water my cactus family weekly with child-like anticipation as more bumps appeared.

When my now not so little hedgehog developed two bumps around her crest  in late April, I simply couldn’t believe it. This cactus had undergone a reversal – from death to life – and now she was going to bloom!

The first two deep pink – almost magenta – blossoms with their bright yellow centers took my breath away.

Little did I know that this was only the beginning. My hedgehog cactus bloomed four different times between May and the end of June. The third time she blossomed she had five flowers in all and wore her wreath like a crown (Although I have researched these plants all the sources say that they bloom just once a year).

I was leaving Abiquiu to make a trip east for the summer and couldn’t bear to leave the hedgehog cactus behind, even for a few months, so she came to Maine with me with one other cactus. My hedgehog bloomed once more about a week after my arrival as if to let me know that she appreciated the fact that I had not left her behind…

Over the summer she thrived and grew positively rotund, her damaged side now completely healed. She turned a brighter green, now resembling the rest of the Maine foliage that surrounded her.

About two weeks ago I brought her inside because the sun is so low on the horizon that it is no longer shining anywhere around my house for more than a few hours a day, and knowing that she was a New Mexican native I feared the lack of sunlight might harm her. Placing her on a western windowsill in an upstairs window, I decided to let her soil dry out to prepare the plump cactus for dormancy, and reminding her that we would soon be returning to Abiquiu where she would once again feel the warmth of a sun star that was closer to the equator… “This dull sky is temporary” I remarked repeatedly, to reassure her.

Because I rarely use the upstairs, I didn’t see her every day, although she’s not alone because she sits next to the other cactus that I also couldn’t bear to leave behind. When I went to water my hedgehog last week, just a few days before my birthday, I had another shock. Where once all her flesh seemed evenly distributed I now noted an egg shaped bump on one side. Could this be a fruit?

Excitedly, I opened my computer to find out and discovered that indeed my now very robust hedgehog (she has doubled in size) was putting forth fruit! Reading on eagerly, I discovered that the fruit would ripen to a dull orange and that these fruits were edible. Not for me! I am going to let the fruit ripen and collect the seed. I have visions of teeny little cacti that will grow from the seeds that are already forming inside the egg shaped capsule with its black top knot. Once again, I am thrilled! In one year, this plant has completed an entire life cycle and is putting forth new life – all this might not have happened had I not come upon this little cactus in the first place.

Now I am visiting with my hedgehog every single day to keep a sharp eye on her fruiting body. The day before my birthday while peering at her spiny skin I suddenly noticed another bump forming. More excitement! Altogether, I discerned that there are four in all; the others were barely noticeable as yet, but the protrusions are there. And because I want them to keep developing I think I will water a bit more frequently… Yesterday, on my birthday, a second egg was quite visible.

(Below, a picture taken yesterday. There are two distinct “eggs” visible, but you have to look carefully! to see them)

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The fact that my little hedgehog chose last week to show me her fruiting body seemed like an amazing birthday gift. I had another when the Great Horned owl family’s deep and resonant whoohing surrounded the house, lasting for about an hour the night before my birthday. Since, these days are always poignant with longing because I have spent so many birthdays alone, I am particularly grateful to Nature who always remembers and brings me gifts that I could never imagine. Lily b sings at this very moment reinforcing this thought.

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And then again, on my birthday, another little jewel came by air.