Tomorrow, the spiral turns again as we celebrate Summer Solstice, the longest day, the fullest light, the fullest outward expression of the year.
The Spiral Dance of Life recognises this as the Mother in her radiant power. She is abundance and care made visible. The garden in full leaf. The long evening light that seems to go on forever.
This year, she rolls in on enormous rainclouds that washed away the final reminders of winter’s grey days.
Whenever the sun peeks from between the clouds, I find myself in the garden, watching spring give way to summer. The garden is drinking in the rain. The soil is soft. The plants are stretching skyward. There are shades of green everywhere.
And yet, here in Edmonton, my garden doesn’t quite reflect the overflowing fullness of summer’s abundance yet.
It feels more aligned with the Moon.
The First Quarter Moon in the Garden
Tomorrow also marks the First Quarter Moon, Luna’s call to nurture new growth and take action on our New Moon intentions.
The spring flowers are finished. In their place, summer rises: leaves unfurling, stems strengthening, buds preparing, green upon green, with a few bright colours as a promise of what is to come. Thank you, colourful Columbine.
That feels true to this moment for me too. The Mother is present, yes. The Solstice is near. The light is full and generous. But the growth I am noticing, both in the garden and in myself, still has that First Quarter Moon feeling: emerging, not yet fully bloomed.
The larger astrology of this season seems to echo that same invitation: rebirth, opportunity, and the possibility of beginning again. Not with a dramatic declaration or a perfectly formed plan, but with small choices that open new doors. With the willingness to follow a thread of curiosity. With the courage to let something new grow before we know exactly what it will become.
Watercolour Moon
This week, I am tracking the Moon’s journey with new handmade lunar altar cards.
My astrology teacher, Bronwyn Simons, led us in making Moon Phase altar cards in watercolour. This was very new territory for me. I have only used watercolours a handful of times, mostly from an itty bitty paint set that brings a smile to my face every time I crack it open. It screams playtime, and brings me back to painting in kindergarten with a giant smock and a big smile on my face.
I made the first set of cards during Bronwyn’s live call, using two colours and sketch paper, following along as she led us through the wisdom of Luna’s cycle.
The result was okay.
I learned a lot, probably just as much about watercolours as the Moon.
And then, my Maiden, my inner child who once spent so much of her time sketching what she saw, wanted more.
She led me to the art supply store to get real watercolour paper. And look at this, watercolour crayons. What fun.
The second time, with my new supplies spread out around me, I took more time. I played with water and pigment over a number of days. And I kept Bronwyn’s reminder not to be too precious beside the jar I used to rinse my brushes. I let the cards become what they wanted to become.
They are not perfect.
And that might be exactly the point.
Letting the Maiden Lead
When I began this blog, I thought the images would be my photographs. That was how I approached it last time, on RhondaJessen.com, where I combined my open learning artifacts with my daily photos for several years.
This time, something different is emerging.
I’m still only using my own images. But I don’t always have photographs for the things I am writing about, so my visual language is different this time. It is a mix of photos, drawings, paintings; small visual cues to help support my words.
This was not the plan. And, if I am honest, I would never have imagined sharing my drawings and paintings publicly. They are not polished. They are not always even what I would define as “good.” Some of them are more than a little wobbly around the edges.
But this is where I am on the spiral right now.
Sometimes the Maiden leads. I invite the part of me who once sketched and danced in the meadows to come forward again, not because she has something perfect to offer, but because she brings me back to play and simple joys.
At this turn of the wheel, I am drawn to notice what is ready to grow, what is asking to be seen, and what part of me is brave enough to invite in ideas that might not be fully formed.
Perhaps this is a moment to ask yourself:
What are you nourishing right now?
What new growth is beginning to show itself, even if it is not yet in full bloom?
What might your inner Maiden want to try, simply for the joy of trying?
And as the spiral turns toward Summer Solstice, what are you ready to welcome into the light?
