April’s Full Pink Moon

Posted on April 6, 2023 by Enchanted Seashells by Princess Rosebud

This full moon is all about healing, harmony, and balance. Stay grounded and peaceful as we embrace the beautiful energy of this pink moon.

“Always remember we are under the same sky, looking at the same moon.” – Maxine Lee

For some reason, none of the pictures I took of the moon came out great, so I snapped a pic of some of my favorite crystals on a pink heart dish.

I love this poem about the moon, written by Lady Montagu (1689-1762), a truly remarkable woman. In addition to her poetry and writing, she is also celebrated for introducing the smallpox inoculation to Britain, half a century before Edward Jenner developed a vaccine against the disease.

Hymn to the Moon

Thou silver deity of secret night,
Direct my footsteps through the woodland shade;
Thou conscious witness of unknown delight,
The Lover’s guardian, and the Muse’s aid!
By thy pale beams I solitary rove,
To thee my tender grief confide;
Serenely sweet you gild the silent grove,
My friend, my goddess, and my guide …

…the butterfly

Posted on March 28, 2023 by Enchanted Seashells by Princess Rosebud

I love butterflies. I’ll stop whatever I’m doing to point and say, “Look at the butterfly!”

Today is World Poetry Day | Anne Sexton

Posted on March 21, 2023 by Enchanted Seashells by Princess Rosebud

Every year, World Poetry Day is celebrated on March 21st with the aim of supporting linguistic diversity through poetic expression.

Here’s one of my favorites by Anne Sexton, elegantly illustrating our shadow side, at least that’s how I interpret her words.

Her Kind

I have gone out, a possessed witch,
haunting the black air, braver at night;
dreaming evil, I have done my hitch
over the plain houses, light by light:
lonely thing, twelve-fingered, out of mind.
A woman like that is not a woman, quite.
I have been her kind.

I have found the warm caves in the woods,
filled them with skillets, carvings, shelves,
closets, silks, innumerable goods;
fixed the suppers for the worms and the elves:
whining, rearranging the disaligned.
A woman like that is misunderstood.
I have been her kind.

I have ridden in your cart, driver,
waved my nude arms at villages going by,
learning the last bright routes, survivor
where your flames still bite my thigh
and my ribs crack where your wheels wind.
A woman like that is not ashamed to die.
I have been her kind.