Personal reflections and seasonal thoughts. These entries trace mood, memory and creative undercurrents as they surface, shift and settle.
July’s full moon, known as the Buck Moon, marks the time when deer grow new antlers. Soft at first, they harden into weapons. It’s a moon bound to transformation under pressure. Within The Summer of Shadows, July brings heat. Not the pleasant warmth of long evenings, but the oppressive kind that alters perception. Heat distorts time, blurs judgment, … Continue reading The Buck Moon…
It’s cool up north. Fresh wind. A jacket feels sensible. Bed socks aren’t entirely unreasonable. A week spent in the south was another matter. Restless nights on sweat-dampened sheets. Clammy skin. Hair clinging to the back of my neck. The curious heaviness that arrives after too many hot days in a row, when thoughts seem … Continue reading The Horned Black Beast…
We expect ghosts to arrive after midnight, announced by flickering lights, thunderstorms, creaking stairs and long, echoing corridors. We wait for darkness before giving ourselves permission to feel uneasy, as though fear keeps sensible office hours. But why? I’ve often wondered whether the brightest hours of the day might be just as unsettling. There are … Continue reading Afternoon Ghosts…
Summer has a reputation for brightness, long days, blue skies, holidays and freedom. But there’s another side to summer. A subtler side. The heat that shimmers above roads, blurring the distance, the way empty streets seem to hum in the baking afternoon sun with the suggestion of something about to happen, and the oppressive stillness … Continue reading Emergence: When the Past Refuses to Stay Buried…
June’s full moon takes its name from a fleeting harvest. Strawberries ripen quickly, and if not gathered at the right moment, they’re lost. Tonight’s Strawberry Moon, therefore, is bound to timing. And with it begins the shift into the Summer of Shadows. Summer is often framed as a season of freedom and light and exploration. But … Continue reading The Strawberry Moon…
Spring merges into summer and days stretch further till evenings almost refuse to close out. In some ways it’s a welcome relief to feel warmth returning and to have more daylight hours. And yet there’s something about the light, isn’t there? It’s different. Stronger and more direct. Dare I say, less forgiving? It reaches into … Continue reading The Shadows of Summer…
I found it beside the main road, resting openly beneath a bush and gleaming white against the dark soil as though it had been deliberately placed there to be noticed. It was almost ceremonial in its positioning. It was also small enough to fit in my palm. So I brought it home with me. And … Continue reading Cranium Cuniculi…
There are places that feel different. Not immediately, and not in a way you can always articulate. It’s gradual, as though something in the air has shifted. You notice before you understand. Horden dene is like that. I’ve walked it many times. The same paths, the same turns, the same descent into green, where the noise … Continue reading Land Spirits…
There’s a tendency to give nature a face. To call it Mother, as though that makes it knowable. But nature doesn’t ask permission, it moves with an insistence that isn’t kindness so much as inevitability. The land remembers what it’s supposed to do. Season after season. Loss after loss. Growth returns not because it’s hopeful, but … Continue reading Mother Nature…
There are moments in stories where a woman is named a witch, not because she’s stirring something in a cauldron and speaking to the moon, but because she knows something she hasn’t explained. Or she lives alone. Or she simply doesn’t behave as she’s expected to. It doesn’t take much. She’s always noticed, observed too … Continue reading The Witch & Hare…
R. H. DIXON 