Happy Birthday, Sagittarius!

(Note: Due to time restrictions, this is a slightly revised reprint of my Sagittarius post from last year.)

If sun signs had theme songs, the Archer's would be "Don't Fence Me In". Or perhaps, "I've Gotta Be Me", sung by Sagittarian Sammy Davis, Jr. Or Billy Joel's "It's My Life". Sagittarians hate to be tied down and they don't like being told what to do.

Sag is a fire sign and people born under this sign tend to be warm and generous, enthusiastic, more than a bit restless, and occasionally a little too truthful. Satittarius has a reputation for putting his foot in his mouth, albeit unintentionally. He never means to hurt or offend, but as it is thought, it is often spoken. (Aries sometimes shares this tendency, as I know all too well.) If you ask a Sagitarrian for an opinion, prepare to hear the truth as she sees it. You'll get nothing less.

The ninth sign of the Zodiac, Sagittarius is ruled by Jupiter, the planet of luck, and represented by a centaur carrying a bow and arrow. In the natal chart, the ninth house represents long distance travel, higher education and religion. Sagittarius can be quite spiritual, though not always in a traditional way. They usually love to travel and can be impatient.

When it comes to matters of the heart, Sagittarius considered to be most compatible with the other fire signs, Aries and Leo, and the air signs of Libra, Aquarius and Gemini. (In nature, air fans a flame, while earth and water can put it out.) In real life, things are never quite so simple, of course.

Famous Sagittarians include Beethoven, Maria Callas, Andrew Carnegie, Winston Churchill, Noel Coward, Sammy Davis, Walt Disney, Mary Martin, Frank Sinatra, and Mark Twain.

For more on the sign, go to: http://www.astrology.com/allaboutyou/sunsigns/sagittarius3.html

Linda / Lyndi

Autumn's Glory

From the time I was a child, autumn has always been my favorite season. I grew up in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, where the fall leaves in my neighborhood regularly changed color from green to shades of gold, orange or red. Every fall, my father would load us all in the car then drive out of town on the Pennsylvania Turnpike to see the dramatic colors of the trees in the Allegheny Mountains. I never grew tired of nature's autumn glory, and I still haven't.

For many years now my home has been Southern California, where fall color, what little we get of it, often arrives in December if at all. It's now that I miss my home state and long for some of that beautiful color.

For your enjoyment, ere are two of my favorite autumn poems:

The Name Of It Is "Autumn"

by Emily Dickinson

The name of it is "Autumn"
The hue of it is Blood
An Artery upon the Hill
A Vein along the Road

Great Globules in the Alleys
And Oh, the Shower of Stain
When Winds upset the Basin
And spill the Scarlet Rain

It sprinkles Bonnets far below
It gathers ruddy Pools
Then eddies like a Rose away
Upon Vermilion Wheels



A Vagabond Song

By William Bliss Carman

THERE is something in the autumn that is native to my blood—
Touch of manner, hint of mood;
And my heart is like a rhyme,
With the yellow and the purple and the crimson keeping time.

The scarlet of the maples can shake me like a cry
Of bugles going by.
And my lonely spirit thrills
To see the frosty asters like a smoke upon the hills.

There is something in October sets the gypsy blood astir;
We must rise and follow her,
When from every hill of flame
She calls and calls each vagabond by name.


What's your favorite season?

Linda