I walked into the apothecary, smiling as I breathed in the familiar aroma of incense. Instantly I felt as if I’d come home. The atmosphere in the small shop was always so welcoming, almost as if the shop itself was giving me a hug, a much-needed hug.
Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and listened.
My gut instinct told me I needed something for my writing desk. Now all I needed to do was listen and wait for the shop to reveal what it was.
Behind the counter, my friend Rosie was finishing with a customer. She smiled as I waved over. Slowly I meandered round the display cabinets, pausing to listen if I thought I heard a voice but nothing spoke to me. The crystals were silent.
I scanned the shelves of oracle and tarot cards. I am a bit of a magpie for decks of cards so it didn’t surprise me when I realised that I already had most of them on my shelf at home. Oops. The Rose Oracle deck caught my eye. It really was a pretty deck but I knew it was already in my collection and that I’d gifted it to most of my friends for either birthdays or Christmas.
I moved on.
Rosie had a table display of journals, incense burners, and candles but nothing there spoke to me which was unusual.
“Hi,” called over Rosie interrupting my search as her other customer left the shop. “I was hoping you’d pop in. I have something I was wanting to show you before I put it on the shelf.”
“Oh, what have you found to tempt me?”
“This,” revealed Rosie producing a large piece of rose quarts from under the counter. “Isn’t she pretty?”
She handed me the hefty piece. It fitted perfectly into the palm of my hand. Its polished face was icy cold initially against my warm skin. I ran my fingers over the uncut front face noting the lustre to it.
The voice in my head sighed and whispered “I knew you’d find me. Take me home where I belong.”
I smiled, “That’s exactly what I was looking for. I knew I needed something for the top of my writing desk. This is it. She’s spoken.”
“I knew it would speak to you,” laughed Rosie. “I knew it as soon as I saw it. She spoke to me too.”
And so, The Wheel turns as summer ends for another year and autumn arrives. This shift is signalled by the Pagan festival, Mabon that marks the Autumn Equinox. There’s no evidence that the Celts celebrated this time of year but there are records of the Neolithic and Bronze Age settlements marking it. The Mayans also recognised it but the name Mabon itself is more modern. As with Ostara in the spring, this is the time when day and night are equal again.
Mabon, according to Wiccan tradition, marks the second harvest and a time when the Goddess begins her annual transition from Mother to Crone in preparation for guiding the world into the darkest part of the year. It’s a time of balance, a time to give thanks for what has come to fruition (harvest); it’s a time to begin preparing for what must be let go (trees shedding their leaves.)
Personally, I find this transition from the light and warmth of summer into the darker part of the year a difficult time. I love summer! I love the light mornings and light nights and the sun’s warmth! But I recognise that the seasons need to change and that The Wheel of the Year must turn. Summer will be back next year.
Autumn is a time of reflection, a time to spend time outdoors in nature. Let’s be honest, despite my love of summer, who doesn’t enjoy an autumnal walk when the sun is shining and the leaves are beautiful shades of red, orange, brown and copper.
It’s a time of year when even our food choices have an extra cosy warmth to them. While I’ll never be a pumpkin spice fan, I do love cinnamon and apples and sweetcorn – all things associated either with Autumn of the harvest season.
As the nights grow darker earlier, there is a certain cosiness to be found from closing the curtains, lighting a candle or two and perhaps writing a reflective journal…or to plan next summer’s holiday!
Recently I took part in Beth Kempton’s online Summer Writing Sanctuary. During one of the classes along the theme of the colour blue, Beth introduced her virtual students to a tool that measures the intensity of blue in the sky. A cyanometer is a circular instrument invented in 1789 by Horace-Benedict de Saussure, a Swiss physicist. There are 53 different shades of blue on a traditional cyanometer and the device helped early meteorologists to determine that the moisture levels in the atmosphere impacted the colour of the sky.
The writing lesson for the day included writing a poem based on the theory of the segments of the cyanometer. Cyanometric poetry?…. not really sure what you would call it but here’s my study in blue. (start reading in a clockwise direction from the small arrow back to the cell with the arrow)
Blue Eyes
And for those who can’t read my handwriting…..
Baby blue eyes
Watching clear blue skies
Endless blue horizon
Ocean waves crash ashore
Blue umbrellas fill the beach
Blue deckchairs too.
Summer scents of sunscreen on the air
My blue Coppertone spray just visible in my bag
A little girl in a blue spotted bikini
And a little boy in blue shorts
Play in the waves
Their blue bucket and spade forgotten in the sand,
This year America celebrated its 250th birthday on 4th July. That also coincided with my last full day in California. I expected to see flags everywhere in the run up to the 4th but no… like everything else California seems to take a more chilled approach to the semi-quin-centennial celebrations than I was accustomed to seeing on the east coast.
As it was my last full day on the west coast, I was determined to make the most of it.
By 10am I was on the beach for my last chance to sunbathe and play in the Pacific Ocean. For the past couple of years, I have spent the 4th of July on the beach at Rehoboth Beach De where space was at a premium from sunrise. A total contrast to Venice Beach. I wandered leisurely across the sand and got a front row spot without any issues. Even by the time I was packing up to leave several hours later there was still ocean front space left for anyone who wanted it. Bizarre!
The boardwalk was already busy as I crossed it on the way back to my hotel to get freshened up.
My master plan was to shower, relax in the shade for an hour then walk to Santa Monica Pier for a late lunch/early dinner.
It was a beautiful walk north to Santa Monica. The Strand was busy with couples and families out walking and the cycle path was crowded with folk cycling, folk on electric bikes and scooters, folk on roller blades and skateboards. If it had wheels, there was someone on it!
What struck me though was the lack of patriotic dress. Where were all the stars and stripes shirts and shorts? Don’t get me wrong, there were a few but nowhere near as many as I had anticipated.
The parks along the way were busy with people out enjoying a picnic; the parking lots were busy with people sitting beside and on their cars and trucks watching the world go by.
As expected Santa Monica Pier was crowded. Was this really my final trip out there? I was more than a little sad about that.
Food was my first priority. On previous visits, I hadn’t gone to Pier Burger. I’ve no idea why I hadn’t to be fair. I just hadn’t. Much to my surprise there was only a short queue outside it and within a few quick minutes I was enjoying (really enjoying!) a Pier Burger and a Sprite back out in the sunshine.
Appetite quashed I headed through the crowds to the end of the pier. It wasn’t as busy out there as I’d suspected it might be. I resisted the lure of the souvenir shop that boasted that it was the last shop for 2448 miles. I can’t say the same for a couple of the others, including the Bubba Gump Shrimp Co on the way back…. oops!
I couldn’t help but wonder as I crossed the well-worn boards for the final time “Would I be back one day?”
On the walk back to Venice Beach there were noticeably more 4th July shirts on display than earlier in the day but still a distinct lack of flags flying.
I passed what looked like the same two guys as on a previous afternoon sitting on the wall playing chess.
Watching some of the homeless population raiding the trash cans for recyclables to sell or for food to eat tugged at my heart and not for the first time…
It was now after 5pm and there was every fashion style imaginable on display – folk out for the evening in their designer clothes, teenagers in swimsuits, joggers sweating it out as they pounded through their run but with most dressed like me in t-shirt and shorts.
There was already a party vibe about Venice Beach as I arrived back at the boardwalk with huge queues lined up outside the first two bar/restaurants.
I returned to my hotel room for a couple of hours to finish packing before venturing back out at sunset in time for the 4th of July fireworks display.
The sun had already begun to set when I set off again for my final trip to the Venice Beach skatepark. I’d walked along there at sunset every night of my stay trying to capture that elusive skateboard jump shot at sunset.
Halfway to the skatepark, there’s a glass fronted building where the units on the ground floor display unusual art exhibits. Above this is a first-floor terrace and presumably apartments. (One room has a life-sized giraffe in it) As I approached I could hear that their party had already started. There was a DJ playing, the terrace was crowded and there was also a circle of dancers on the boardwalk. This was definitely where the 4th of July party was at! With no other option, I danced my way through the crowd.
Some clouds had rolled in so it was a rather muted but still stunning sunset. I stood watching the skateboards for longer than usual, knowing that this was my last opportunity to watch them. I’d come to recognise a few faces and enjoyed watching them hurtling round at breakneck speeds. The tall, elegant girl with the roller boots was there too. Someone had moved and oil drum/trash can to the edge of one of the sections and several folk were attempting to jump over it, some with more success than others.
It was getting chilly standing there so I decided to go for a last wander through the shops to get in out of the breeze for a bit. I was tempted to buy a second Venice Beach hoodie to keep warm but decided against it. (My suitcase was a tad full and a tad heavy.)
As darkness fell, sporadic fireworks started to go off up and down the coastline and closer to the boardwalk. The official fireworks display was being set off from a barge down at Marina del Ray, south of Venice Beach but I didn’t feel inclined to walk so far knowing that I would need to walk back in the dark. (When the sun goes down, more of the local homeless population appear on the boardwalk to sleep under the trees or in the public restrooms.) I decided to err on the side of caution and view the fireworks from the grassy knoll south of the skatepark. There were already a few of the homeless camped there for the night but I could see that there were folk gathering on the beach in front so I headed there instead.
A few moments before the official display began, someone let off a huge firework to my left. It whizzed over my head before lighting up the sky in a shower of green. I got the fright of my life! That had been a bit close for comfort! Others were being set off around me and I’ll be honest; I was a bit spooked.
I watched the first ten minutes of the official display then decided “if you’ve seen one firework, you’ve seen them all” and set off for home.
The boardwalk after dark certainly attracted an entirely different crowd! The DJ dance party was still in full swing as I danced back through it. All around me, fireworks were lighting up the night sky.
As 4th July celebrations go, this had been one to remember… especially as the fireworks continued to go off until the wee small hours of 5th July. Well, I guess the country is only 250 once.
