Weather Watcher

Weatherwatcher

(Scroll down to listen to LadyG’s audio version of this post)

I’ve always been fascinated by the weather.

As a child, I remember watching my grandfather’s weather vane twirl from one direction to the next.

North, South, East, West…

But, somehow, it always seemed to me as if there was something deeper underlying those shifting winds.

What could it be?

I wondered if the easterly wind carried a portent of mysterious events to come.

If so, would it be something magical?

Odd?

Supernatural?

I had my suspicions, but I wasn’t sure.

So, in an effort to satisfy my curiousity about the wind and other weather related peculiarities, I decided to become an amateur meteorologist!

To that end, I feverishly consumed every book or article about the weather.

Which led me to…

Study cloud formations…

Fashion a bottle, balloon and some straw into a primitive barometer…

Learn the difference between spinning storms in the Northern Hemisphere..

And spinning storms in the Southern Hemisphere…

And spinning storms in the Pacific…

And spinning storms in the Atlantic…

And spinning storms on land…

And spinning storms on water…

You know….CYCLONES and what not.

At any rate, I became obsessed with other relevant phenomenon such as high and low pressure systems.

I was ever conscious of their locations 🙂

How’s that, you ask?

Well, I once read that if you face the direction of the wind, the low pressure system will be on your left side–at least in the Northern Hemisphere.

I’ve never verified that information but it seemed plausible to me 🙂

Oh, and don’t get me started on my passion for weather folklore, history and lies.

I love ’em all!

As a matter of fact, my dream job is to compile and study narratives and pictures from people who have lived through major hurricanes and other weather related events.

So…where does my preoccupation with weather come from?

Well, I can tell you with all certainty that my mother couldn’t have cared less.

Eh….My father might have had a passing interest.

But, honestly, I think that my obsession with weather may have come from the fact that I shuffled onto this mortal coil alongside Hurricane Camille.

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Hey…don’t laugh…Mark Twain had his comet and I have my hurricane 🙂

On a serious note, I realize that this storm left many lives lost.  That said, I do not in any way celebrate that fact.

However, I do have a certain amount of reverence and awe for mother nature’s powerful manifestations.

And, to this day, I am still captivated by all things atmospheric!

Speaking of which…

I grabbed a few photos of some of the damage cause by tropical storm Irma.

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Fortunately, my family fared pretty well.

I say prayers for those who were not so lucky and to those who are busy picking up the pieces.

In the end, this weather watcher has concluded that the Earth reserves the right to remind us of her power.

Either way, God will see us through.

 

Love and light to you all!

LadyG 😘 💋 💋

Audio version

Stuff I Like: Old Farmer’s Almanac

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Every New Year’s Eve I used to purchase two Old Farmer’s Almanacs–one for me, and one for Mama.

Trust me when I tell you that the Almanac is a useful little resource.

I like reading about the Moon phases and associated folklore.

It even gives a long-term weather forecast based on geographic location.

What the hell, it couldn’t be any less accurate than the dude on TV who pretends to know where the newest storm is headed.

I’ve learned a number of things by reading the Almanac; some useful, some trivial but all of it very interesting.

Just so you know, you don’t have to purchase it in the store, you can find it online right here.

Let me warn you though…it can be addictive 🙂

Love and light to you all!

LadyG 😘💋

 

 

Frolicking in the Moonlight

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I am unequivocally a lover of the moon 🙂

Tonight I’ll get to see her, once again, in all her majesty.

The moon, in my opinion, is one of God’s most beautiful gifts.

And I’ve been nursing a crush on this celestial ‘mama’ for as long as I can remember.

I watch her.

I talk to her.

I dance ‘with’ her.

I read about her.

In fact, I adore Luna related folklore.

And so…

A few years back, while poking around on the interwebs, I ran across a little ritual for wishing on the moon.

After reading it, I thought, “Hmmm this might be fun to try someday.”

And, with that, I saved it for future reference.

Well it looks like future reference has arrived 🙂 and tonight Lady J and I are going to give it a try!

I’m listing the steps here just in case you’d like to ‘join’ us 🙂

Wishing on the Moon

Gather some pennies–some sources say 9.

Go outside and face the moon.

Spread your arms as if you are about to give it a hug.

Now, say:

You have said that when you’re around, prayers are answered, chains unbound, you promise that all one’s wishes shall come true.”

Now, visualize your wish as if it were already fulfilled.

Speak your wish out loud.

Then, throw the pennies toward the moon.

Now say, “Now take this token of my love as your silver light shines from above, please bring to me what I ask of you by harvest night and morning dew. So shall it be.”

Oh yeah, before you go forth, let me offer a couple of caveats:

First, as I said, I found this ritual on the interwebs.  Actually, I’ve seen it on several different sites; none of which listed the actual author.  That said, if you know, without a doubt, who wrote it please feel free to add that in comments and I will update the post 🙂

Second, I ain’t got no idea if this will work, so take it with a grain of salt.  I make no promises so consider it a form of entertainment ONLY and NOT a guarantee that your wish will be granted.

YAAASSSS!

***

Tell me your moon stories in comments.  Better yet, if you try this or have tried it, let me know what happens/happened 🙂

Now go frolic in the moonlight!  Don’t forget to bring your pennies and a wish!

For my Corsican Twin, Gloria, who is now frolicking in the moonlight in Seattle–A wish fulfilled!

❤ ❤ ❤

Ron’s Time Tunnel: A Ghost Story

A GHOST STORY

My father—Son of Comet—was a History teacher who was particularly adept at the retelling of old stories from the African American Folklore genre. I think that, at one time or another over the course of his teaching career, he must have brought home every book on Black Folklore that his school library possessed.

Once he’d mastered a story, he’d put his own spin on it then either; retell it to me, my brother and sister or, for the more risqué ones, to the guys sitting around the town square.

The square was actually a “squircle” but, that’s part of another story.

My favorite were the “Ghost Stories”. In addition to the stories, he had the “Shaking Hand” routine. When executing the “Shaking Hand” routine, the room would be darkened. We would lie in bed with the covers pulled up to our chins, anxiously peeking into the dark.

Then silently, the much anticipated, “Shaking Hand” would begin its stealthy advance from the next room preceded by a spooky moan that slowly rose in eerie volume and spooky intensity until suddenly! It was would be upon us; “The Shaking Hand”. In its claw-like embodiment, it reached; searching then pouncing into our abdomens; tickling us until we laughed ourselves into convulsions. Such was the advent “The Shaking Hand”.

The following is one of the ghostly tales my father would spin on those dark nights, after the “Shaking Hand” had eaten all of the childish laughter it could hold. I’ve taken his recipe and liberally added my own spices.

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One dark, cold, winter night, he told this story: “’A weary jongleur and his equally weary horse were traveling a lonely road one dark and dreary night. The massive black thunderheads of an impending, violent storm lurked on the horizon, and the only shelter in sight, was an old, “abandoned” shack. The jongleur petted his trusty steed and prayed feverishly, “Dear God please watch over me tonight”.

He put his horse into the barn and made his way to the house, just before the storm broke. The door creaked open even before his hand touched it. Inside was a fireplace. There was wood laid for a fire. He put a match to it then sat down next to the fire,  pulled out his old guitar and began to play it; humming to himself.

Gradually, the fire burned down to smoldering coals as the wind whipped around the shack, rattling the shutters, and whistling through the cracks in the walls rotting boards. The troubadour was suddenly jostled from his reverie by the door slamming open.

In walked a very large black cat, who sat down in the midst of the red hot coals. It picked a coal up in its paw and licked it slowly. The red hot coal sizzled as the cat’s wet, red tongue, slid roughly across it. Steam from the coal, slipped silently upward. The cat got up, shook off the ashes, and walked to where the jongleur sat transfixed.  It stared at him with blazing red eyes; its long black tail silently slashing the air. Then, unexpectedly, it spoke, ‘you’d better not be here when John comes’ it hissed.

The cat slinked over to the far corner of the room and curled up on the floor, blazing red eyes fixed on the man. Nervously the man began to play his tune again. However this time striking a few sour chords.

Two minutes later, a midnight black bobcat skulked through the open door. It too lay down among the smoldering coals. It grabbed two of the hot coals and threw them into its mouth. Then, slowly chewing on the hot coals, it meandered over to the corner where the other cat lay. When he had finished his meal, he growled to the man, ‘You’d better not be here when John comes’ then it lay down and stared at the man; all the while flashing its glistening white teeth at the jongleur.

Suddenly! A high pitch scream, like the scream of a woman in pain, arose from outside the door. The man, frozen in fear, warily glanced towards the door as a jet-black panther cat stalked into the room. He walked over to the coals and blew on them until the flames were resurrected. He snorted the flames into his right nostril. He then snorted the flames into his left nostril. He breathed heavily; leaned back on his haunches and purred, ‘You better not be here when John comes’.

With that, the man quietly got to his feet, gathered his belongings and tipping his hat in the general direction the cats said, ‘While I certainly enjoyed the company of you cats, I must be going. When John comes, tell him I’m sorry I missed him but I had to go’.  Then he lit out like a bat out of hades.””

The Moral of the story is: WHEN CONFRONTED WITH OVERWHELMING ODDS, TIP YOUR HAT.

Since we’re on the subject of panthers and the like. Join me next week for another of SON of COMET’S tales, “THE PANTHER TRUCK”.