narrowing the field
a gemini new moon missive
Gemini Season has arrived, bringing with it a glut of hummingbirds, a smattering of new blooms, a flurry of garden prep, and a much less welcome guest: mosquitoes. I suppose they’re all on brand. Hummingbirds: seasonal grazers that travel large swaths of water and land, fueled only by sugar water. They each carry mental maps of kind strangers and floral abundance, returning season after season to chirp, sip, and quarrel. Replace that sustenance with an iced coffee beverage and I imagine it could describe many of your Gemini pals.
The devotional chapel on our property is surrounded by ancient and modern rose varietals in many shades. Deep, blood roses give way to a bush dotted with shocking, florescent red buds. Creamy whites and pale peachy yellows intermingle with the classic shades. Pastel pinks and playful fuchsias wink and unfurl. The perimeter of the lot is dotted with tangles of grape vines and woodsy roses. Jennye and I squeal with delight at every flush of new blooms; pops of color announcing themselves from the ombre of greens.
Jennye has a Gemini Moon, and does the bulk of the garden planning. She sets herself to making rhizomatic lists and grids, ordering seeds and starts and an extra couple of most things just in case. She buzzes around—usually starting in February—sourcing and securing scarce medicinal herbs, organizing seed packets. She maps out the various deadlines, hard and soft, and fills in an overflowing digital calendar.
Mid to late May is always a cacophony. Full to the brim with planting starts, fretting over water systems, and trundling wheelbarrows full of manure and compost and dirt from piles or my pickup truck to beds and back again. There are lots of little errands. Asking neighbors and friends for recommendations and resources. Little chats at the soil yard and the used irrigation supply house. Dipping in and humming around like the pollinators that we try to attract with a variety of blooms and invitations.
But what about the mosquitoes? They belong too, I suppose. We spent the last four summers above 7500’ in elevation, and though there was an irrigation ditch and a trickling creek, water was much more scarce. The plant life was rugged, hardy. Deciduous trees were far outnumbered by towering ponderosa pines and squat juniper and piñons. Sage brush and cholla and prickly pear dotted the trail and foothills behind the house we rented. A generous monsoon would promote a few days of the buzzing pests, but I hardly remember being chased inside by them at dusk.
The landscape here is decidedly different. A local farmer we buy starts from commented on our move “Oh wow, you’re in the banana boat now!” And he’s right. Just driving by on the low road you can see the exaggerated strip of green that flanks the Rio Grande. It’s almost neon—much brighter than the deep emeralds of the coniferous forest. The soil is sandy and light, rich in earthworms and easier to dig and work. It is clear that things want to *grow* here. Wild licorice and horsetail, the aforementioned roses and grapes, abundant alfalfa and clover create a lush carpet in and amongst the bindweed, ragweed, and dandelions.
Flood irrigation is the name of the game here, pulled in turn from the ancient acequias; gravity fed systems that are the confluence of many cross continent waves of colonization and indigenous practices. Flooding is both ingenious and imprecise, and the proximity of the river raises the water table generously, allowing for ample pooling and just the right mixture of moisture and warmth for mosquitoes.
They, too, feel very Gemini adjacent. The contraindications of this type of abundance. The reminder that there is no such thing as paradise, that every convenience comes at a cost. Buzzing and diving. Tiny threats that are insistent, move in packs and clusters. Surreptitiously approach and descend. Many things come as package deals, and we must learn to accept the many facets and intricacies of each place, each earthy being. We must remember that every choice we make precludes another, narrowing the field.
As Jupiter finishes its year long journey through Gemini, this narrowing is necessary. Delight in varied potential may be giving way to overwhelm. If you find yourself surrounded by a sea of unfinished projects (the dregs of Aries season), it may be time to focus. To weed out some opportunities, and figure out what might actually be viable.
The Gemini New Moon invites and encourages this narrowing. A mini grand trine is being formed between Mercury, Sun, and Moon in Gemini; Pluto in Aquarius; and Saturn and Neptune freshly in Aries. This is a New Moon for the Underdog. For the runts of the litter. Outcasts and outsiders. The weirdos who could never be bothered with trying to hide their rough edges or contradictory natures. Each sign, in their own way, has some affinity here. Gemini is the twins. Mercurial and mischievous, there is always another side to things. Aquarius stands at the margins and surveys, cultivates some distance in opposition to heart centered Leo, so used to being the central theme or figure. Aries can’t sit still long enough to figure out what everyone else is doing, hasn’t waited their turn or studied the social ladder. The ram is more interested in immediate expression than validation or approval.
Pluto in this mix reminds us of the power of our networks and nodes, and invites us to explore and celebrate the varied skills and knowledge that collective effort and action bring to the table. The Gemini trio starts to connect the dots and fill in the blanks. Saturn and Neptune may bring some despair when joined together, but they also deliver a kind of lucid dream state. We must understand that all things are finite, claim our agency (even in chaos), and choose something to hone in on, finish out. Aries is known for its impulsivity and combative nature, but it is also a sign that possesses incredible intuitive reasoning and instincts. With Saturn’s wisening impact, Aries cultivates more discipline and stamina.
Fire and air together create movement and spread. Saturn and Neptune form a driving edge. A point emerges, flanked by the Gemini and Aquarius planets. Buoyed by connection and collective power, we have the potential to steel our resolve and commit to some course of action to bridge the gap between our visions and longings and the confines of incarnation and material reality. Combined, these energies offer up the chance to make real what has thus far existed only as potential. To draw the dream down to earth.
Under this New Moon, don’t think too hard. Just pick something you’ve started—whatever feels the loudest, most urgent, or exciting—and start nibbling away at it. Grab one thread and pull. Return to your piles, whatever small chaos you may have created over the last year or few months, and dig in. It’s never too late to start to finish something.
looking for horoscopes?
You can find your Gemini Season Horoscopes here. If you’d like to dig deeper into your chart, book a session me with me!
want some more support?
My partner Jennye is offering a sliding scale, virtual breathwork group on Thursday at 5pm MT! You can learn details and register here.
this week’s playlist
Is a throwback to last spring.