Maebius Musing

It’s not often I find myself navel-gazing too closely when doing meditations. (see mirror-phobia)

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Not much to report on, regarding deep philosophical musings, since lately we have been busy cleaning up around the yard, getting fences fixed, gardens tilled, and such. (Yes, I’ve said that the past three blog updates, but it’s a long drawn out process since we only have about an hour from when I get home from work, eat, and then need to put the young one to bed)

In relation to food, this article is related to this grocery-themed posting…for better or worse muses later.

Also, I took this new moon time to reflect on organization of the blog (and thus spent a good 2 hours re-catagorizing things and cleaning up some typos and database entries that were redundant). Spring cleaning, virtual, physical, and spiritual! Triune clean!
/poses like Link gaining a fragment of Tri-force…
However, I did have a little outdoor meditation, where I tried to re-attune to our land, get a sense of what needed fixed up, cleared, built, or otherwise mindfully noticed around the property. Mostly, in relation to the more permanent labyrinth that is being constructed in the side yard (initial image seen from space here, taken a few years ago.

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((pictures to come once camera USB is unearthed)) One picture and movie uploaded…

Nothing too deep this month, at least that could be put into words easily. Suffice it to say this was one wonderful set of days.

This weekend, and this entire last week, was the sort of gorgeous summery weather that idyllic paradises are made from. A sunny, slightly breezy 75f by day, and just-chilly-enough-for-blanket-with-windows-open by night. Absolutely divine.

We had conscripted “The teens” over the weekend, and managed to get some seriously labor-intensive projects cleared up around the property. Yards raked, trash cleaned from fences, and the sort of general spring-cleaning required once the snows vanish and the weeds are low enough to see the accumulated gunk. Most impressively, some random piles of rusty metal and the ancient barbed-wire that had been taking up space for the last few years was dug up, hauled into view, or snipped into managable chunks and ready for the scrap-collector to pick up sometime this week. With these chores done, sections of yard and the lower walls of some outbuildings are now reclaimed for grass, glowers, and general aesthetic improvement! Go Team Everthorn!

Of course, no yard cleanup can be complete without a proper bonfire to dispose of the myriad twigs, branched, and (in our case) rotten and winter-felled tree trunks. (insert movie here).

The teen from a prior post has gotten noticably less angsty, though still seems to harbor some pretty deep anger issues. However, discussions were mentioned in passing, re-spoken casually around other conversations, and eventually were rewarded with a similarly curt-yet-sincere acknowledgement that he heard and understood my concerns. (a more direct statement resulted in a reflexive ‘wall’ being tossed up and sulking derailment of topics. The less direct yet periodic reminders seemed more effective. Typical teen boy-speak, that I remember all too well and used to my advantage. *wink*

All in all, the bonfire and related chilling out watching embers and random chatter did wonders for my own spirit. The full moon rose yellow and mist-covered, the talk turned to esoteric musings, (and the grudgingly acceptance-reply from teen) and was a great way to ease into evening, even as our bones started to stiffen up from the unusually laborious work that day.

Sunday morning, the fire still smoldered, the last scraps of wood and leaves were heaped up and re-ignited themselves, and we all relaxed and enjoyed the new improved scenery.

And, ye reader of my Blog, lest you fear I not explain the Hops part of this topic, when we cleaned up around the gardens, I discovered under the leaves my hops vine was already pushing up and was already about 6-7 inches long, fully prickled and sprouting tiny green leaves across the dirt. I adjusted the vine to reach the twine guideline, and it seemed to grow another inch by Monday morning. Fresh beer here we come!!

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It’s deep into the last dregs of Tax season here at Everthorn Farm, which means we are either cloistered away from the computer so Mrs Maebius can work, or traveling to various relatives, friends, and clients scattered across the northeastern region of these United States.

Thus, no time for pesky New Moon Musings.

Instead, I bring you a bunny.

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Well, in case you needed to calculate it yourself…

((19*t+u-w-(u-(u+8)\25)+1)\3)+15)mod30)+(32+2*x+2*y-(19*t+u-w- (u-(u+8)\25)+1)\3)+15)mod30)-z)mod7)-7*(t+11*(19*t+u-w(u- (u+8)\25)+1)\3)+15)mod30)+22*(32+2*x+2*y-(19*t+u-w-(u- (u+8)\25)+1)\3)+15)mod30)-g)mod7)+114)\31

Happy Easter!

also, for you non-anglo-christian inclined readers, if ye be reading:

Happy Purim (Jewish holiday)

Narouz (Persian New Year)

Eid Milad an Nabi, (Happy Birthday Prophet Muhammad)

Small Holi, (Hindu Festival of Colours)

Magha Puja ( Buddhist “Fourfold Assembly” day)

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

In more muse-worthy discussion, spring is officially here in my neck of the woods..er… field?

Every year in March, I start fretting about our garden, and watching outside to see if the nearby farms are ready to start preemptive plowing. I feel like winter is going away, and we need to get outside and do stuff, plant stuff! Yet I know that in early (and late) March, there is still a good chance of snow, and late April is really when things get in the ground around here. In fact, as I type this, mere hours away from our big Weekend involving guests at the house, dining at a huge annual buffet, and egg-hunts, it is below freezing and snow is accumulating on the cars again. I’ll have to de-ice the doors before driving home from work!

I’ve attributed this early anxiety to my being raised farther south than where I live now, and the general climate being slightly ‘off-schedule‘, compared to my fondest childhood memories. (Perhaps my friend Nettle has similar experience, having migrated south to the Big City?) Where I grew up, it really was time to start serious browsing of seed catalogs, and the big amish farms started, if not full plowing, then getting the equipment hitched up and tightened. Within one or two weeks, things will be blooming down there. Around upstate New York now, the trees are only considering the possibility of budding out.

Lately though, in the past few years, started to drift away from specific date-centric celebrations of seasons (with the exception of solstices, equinoxes, and birthdays, etc). More and more, I am building a set of internal correspondences for general seasonality and celebration. The subtly spiritual side of being in-tune with the world around me has taken it’s cues from the local area, rather than the printed dates on my desk. Most notably felt was this past Imbolc, where the feeling of coming spring remained aloof and distant in the midst of our wintery weather.

As a timely example, I can say with authority (at least to my own heart) that spring has arrived. Not because this ball of rock oribting the sun has swung around to a certain point. Not because of the clock on my computer reading off dates similar to 03/21/xx. I know it is spring because of the geese.

This past week, I have seen flocks of waterfowl across the sky in growing numbers. It’s hard to picture, but perhaps even more geese than crows are visible on my evening drives home. Yesterday, I looked out at our pond to see four Branta Canadensis floating around! To me, that is a stronger sign than any easter-themed flowers, eggs, and chocolate.

Going solely on the calendar, especially in terms of Easter celebrations, which tend to fluctuate all across the month of April, seems a tad bit silly as a measuring stick. For the rest of the country, and probably a more useful truism in the European climate which helped create the iconic imagery for these festivals, this time of year is reflected in the return of nature’s growth.

Perhaps this observation is a result of being more in-tune with the place. I’ve lived here, going on a decade now. (Wow, has it really been that long?!!) I’m starting to get used to the changing seasons in a way that is meaningful to my innermost mind. Logically, I still cling to the habitual time-frames I grew up with, and habits die hard. Beyond that though, I think that the semi-conscious thought of marking local signs like our pond-dwellers to the seasons is my brain’s way of re-connecting without having to break up those old habits.

For whatever reason, it’s working, so I won’t dig too deeply into the reasons, other than to acknowledge the observation and enjoy it. Spring is here. The geese came home.

What a great worm moon!

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