Tiu's Day - waxing Gibbous moon in Pisces

"I'm one with the Goddess
and open to Her Wisdom."


13th Day of the 11th Lunar Cycle
Ruled by Gaia
Lunar Tree Cycle of Gort/Ivy
20th Day of the Celtic Tree
Month of Gort/Ivy
Moon Phase: waxing Gibbous
Moon sets: 4:18AM EDST
Moon rises: 4:43PM EDST
Moon in the Mutable Water
Sign of Pisces
Rhiannon's Cycle of the Moon
Lunar Meditation: The song
of the earth.
Sun in Libra
Sunrise: 7:34AM EDST
Sunset: 6:35PM EDST
Solar Question for the Day: ""What
areas of your life need hard or steady
work right now?"
Lughnasadh (Gwyl Awst) Quarter
of the Year
October 19th, 2010

Tiu's Day - Mars Day - the Day of Activity and Physicality, Passion and Desire - Action Day

It has been a very foggy, misty early morning here in my neighborhood.  I love it!  Mists have always been something I've been fascinated with.  A logical explanation for it is this: Mist and fog usually form at night when the air is too cold to hold all its moisture. Clear skies mean that the ground gets cold and it then cools the air close to it. This cool air causes condensation and water droplets form in the air. Fogs are thickest when the air can hold a lot of moisture. Formation... Although mist is not as thick as fog, they are both formed in this same way. Mist, however, usually stays closer to the ground and you can see over the top of it. Mist is often seen on autumn mornings when nights get longer and cooler again. This is particularly true in valleys, because cold air sinks down and collects in the valley during the night.
   But Frank MacEowen in his book "The Mist-Filled Path" gives a description that touches my soul the most..  "The mist called to me when I was a child. In the early mornings, and sometimes at dusk, I would look out the window into the thick woods behind our Georgia home, and a deep longing would fill my soul. The Cymru, the Celts of Wales, would say I had been consumed by the spirit of birath, the longing for something my soul had known once upon a time.

    Just beyond the mossy stone wall, just past the clusters of fern, I would often see the eerie gray-green mist swirling in the trees. It would hang there like a gull in the wind, as if searching for something. It seemed to capture something of my own quest, a deep childhood search for an experience of the mystery of the sacred world. "

I am going out to walk now in the mists - wrapped in my old baggy tattered sweater and feel the tendrils of crone's hair wash by my face.