Saturday, 18 March 2017
Crows think they're silver.
That's something I thought I'd gleaned from the Carlos Castaneda books that we all read back in the day, but I've just googled it and didn't find any such reference. How odd.
Nevertheless, I believe it to be true, crows do think they're silver because they are silver. Surely you've seen it too, when the sun glints off their backs and wings 'just so' there's a flash of what I take to be true crow-self, and it is decidedly silver. Especially as seen from above, and crows see one another from above. So they oughta know.
We saw plenty of silver crows today as we drove to and from the town of Renfrew just for something to do. The recent cold snap followed by a whump of snow did set us back some; the little streams are refrozen and the fields still blindingly white so it is not yet spring, but still, there's a difference in the light, a difference in the shade of blue of the sky, and now
just over the silhouettes of the treetops
against that new shade of blue sky
the maples, mostly, and to a lesser
but no less delightful degree, the birches
there hangs a whisper of a rose-y hue.
It's a couple months yet til they burst into green,
but in the weeks before they green,
Have you been seeing the moon these last few mornings? She's waning, and that means she rises later and later each night, into the wee hours, a shiveringly shimmery crow-silver moon that, as the sun rises, becomes translucent, so that she seems to dissolve into the sky before she sets. It's teeny bit of a misnomer, to my ear, that the last phase of the moon is called the 'dark of the moon', and you must agree if you've ever seen that delicate crescent rise in the east in the last hour before dawn. It just sparkles. We call the waning phase after the goddess Hecate, not (only) the (to some frightening) crone of the crossroads (who forces us to make those tough choices) version of Hecate, but also the Beloved and Ancient Grandmother of All with the starry twinkle in her eye.
Magically speaking, the waning of the moon is the time of releasing, revealing what's underneath, removing the false-hoods. When the truth is revealed we can make realistic plans for future projects, and we initiate those projects (or plant the seeds of them) when the moon is new again.
to and fro'
to and fro'
the earth has a heart
worn on her sleeve
13 beats per annum
the rhythm of tides
the rhythm of wombs
as above, so below
as it is in the heavens
Not long after we came home today, in the middle of the afternoon, I heard our three local ravens making a ruckus. I ignored them - I was busy hanging the gorgeous deep red brocade curtains I'd bought at the second hand store, first in the living room but they didn't work there, then in the bedroom where they look just fabulous - then I heard just one, calling from the back yard, all gentle like, in a sing song voice. I tried to ignore that too, because yes, even I sometimes think it's a bit much that I go flying out the door just because I can hear Raven calling from the big old maple in the back yard. But he kept calling, all gentle and sing song and I thought well .. he might be calling me. So out I went, stood on the back porch (cold cement under my bare feet) and there he was, looking right at me, rubbing his beak on the branch then calling over and over again, all gentle and sing song and I tried at first to imitate it, Raven-like, but of course failed, and then it struck me to say what I always say as they swoop and sky-dance over me ... "hel-lo, hel-lo" all sing song and gentle and I realized that is what the raven is saying to me. "hel-lo, hel-lo".
Sure enough, when I answered him in my usual sing song gentle tones he got real excited and craw craw crawed and danced on his branch, rubbing his beak ever so enthusiastically. That exchange went on and on, in fact I tired of it before he did and yeah, that's some kind of crazy.
The top of his head flashed bright in the sun,
I couldn't say if it was green or blue.