Imbolc Waning Wild Moon
While eating breakfast this morning a loud noise, like a souped up street cleaner, disturbed my cereal. I asked Kate what it was. She thought it was a souped up street cleaner, or some other machine outside. I got up to look. It was rain. Pouring rain, buckets, pummeling the roof. The old snow will take a beating today.
Then, another noise. Thunder. An old friend from the warmer seasons. On your marks, get set, grow.
Kate and I began our 21st year last night at midnight. Another growing season has begun to push its way toward us, too. As we celebrate events this year, birthdays, anniversaries, holidays, the growing season, each one gets punctuated with, When we (do this next), you’ll be retired. This is Kate’s last year at Allina, and she will not be sad to let go. Medicine has changed and not in a good way.
