Showing posts with label astro-theology. Show all posts
Showing posts with label astro-theology. Show all posts
Sunday, September 23, 2012
Sunday, April 15, 2012
Monday, March 19, 2012
Good Riddance, Winter
Here on the East coast of the US, the spring equinox is at 12:14 a.m. on Tuesday, March 20.
Sorry, Southern hemisphere.
Monday, February 13, 2012
NOW you tell me....
I totally missed Superb Owl Sunday, a day when:
Buzzfeed's Ultimate Superb Owl Sunday Roundup.
the majestic strigiform will awake from its yearly slumber. If the Superb Owl sees its shadow, we're in for another 6 weeks of people quoting lines from TV ads!
Buzzfeed's Ultimate Superb Owl Sunday Roundup.
Thursday, February 2, 2012
’Twas the Morning of Groundhog's
A Visit from a Groundhog
by Autumn Ward, adapted from Clement Clarke Moore
‘Twas the morning of Groundhog's, and all above the burrow
Not a crop row was stirring, not even a furrow.
Calories were stored in fat rolls with care,
In hopes the spring equinox soon would be there.
The marmots were nestled all snug in their dens,
While visions of vegetables danced in their heads.
And mamma in her slippers, and I, sans my shoes,
Were all settled in for a late morning’s snooze.
When out on the lawn there arose such a rumpus,
I slid from my bed to see what all the fuss was.
Across to the window I walked in a haze,
Opened the curtains and focused my gaze.
The sun on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Shone bright, then diffuse, fluctuating its glow,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a drowsy woodchuck departing his lair.
As dry leaves that before the calm breeze skate,
When they meet with an obstacle, flutter and shake,
So out of the burrow the rodent did heave,
Assessing the shadows, ‘hogmancy to weave.
by Autumn Ward, adapted from Clement Clarke Moore
‘Twas the morning of Groundhog's, and all above the burrow
Not a crop row was stirring, not even a furrow.
Calories were stored in fat rolls with care,
In hopes the spring equinox soon would be there.
The marmots were nestled all snug in their dens,
While visions of vegetables danced in their heads.
And mamma in her slippers, and I, sans my shoes,
Were all settled in for a late morning’s snooze.
When out on the lawn there arose such a rumpus,
I slid from my bed to see what all the fuss was.
Across to the window I walked in a haze,
Opened the curtains and focused my gaze.
The sun on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Shone bright, then diffuse, fluctuating its glow,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a drowsy woodchuck departing his lair.
As dry leaves that before the calm breeze skate,
When they meet with an obstacle, flutter and shake,
So out of the burrow the rodent did heave,
Assessing the shadows, ‘hogmancy to weave.
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