New Moon in Gemini - Changing Perception

It was a cleansed and purified white-blue day.  Long walk to the next village, under the new moon.  Rain forecast.  The light, a shifting combination of spiritual awakening and dull doom.  Clouds and waves crested china white against steel-blue sea-sky.   Sycamores darkened green now.  Was that a whisper, just a whisper, of Autumn already?

At the bay, the sea sounded deep in meditation.  Soporific breath.  Inhale five, hold five, exhale five, hold five.  The grass had just been cut in the castle grounds, smelling like a picnic in the warm air.  Where there’s cut grass, blackbirds will be foraging, and they were.   Mingling, mouths full. 

Walking down the hill, sheltered by the old town wall, noticed some grasses were a lavender blue, beautiful against the summer green.  Birds-foot trefoil and Queen Anne’s lace, brought phantom thoughts of The Baroque.  Gilded scallop shells, pearls and cornucopia.

The West wind was lurking around the harbour corner, like a beast in a fairy tale.  Bellowing an all-embracing roar that brought tears streaming.  Walking windward ups the pace, twirls the clouds, like so much candy floss.  Rococo waves trimmed moleskin rocks flamboyantly, with cuffs and ruffs. Sound of rapturous applause, the night the first Opera was ever performed.  Expectation. Candlelit hush.  Powdered wigs.  Silks and taffeta rustling.  Whisper of gossip.  Not invited?  Scent of oranges, attar of rose perhaps.  Something wonderful about to happen, that has never happened before. 

Hordes of fiery trefoils stormed the remnant rocks of the fairy cathedral, blasted in its own Bastille Day, to make way for an iron horse. 

Out at sea, luminous white dart-splash of gannets, sacred against the darkening sky.  Still the sun shone through show-casing newly flowering marguerites. 

The rain spritzed a few seconds, but the West wind, wanting none of it, quickly ushered it on. 

Images for this journal have been posted on Insta @purplehaze_journals