saturn, shmaturn -- look at those colors!

saturn, shmaturn — look at those colors!

A

friend said she needed my address. She had something she wanted to send me.

I was delighted and then, almost instantly, confused. My friend and I live in the same town and see each other with some frequency. It wasn’t my birthday and Christmas was still weeks off. What was the occasion?

It’s your time of year, she reminded me.

Her gift arrived just a few days before I found myself driving through a considerable section of the city with the traffic lights out, before being rear-ended in traffic again, before receiving the ugly estimate for the repairs on our other car, the one that had already been convalescing in the shop for a week and a half.

“Saturn is in retrograde,” my yoga teacher had informed our class ominously last week. I had no idea what she was talking about but I widened my eyes in recognition, hoping to appear as if I did.

“When your computer crashes over the next couple of weeks, take a deep breath and go do something fun,” she went on, which gave me a better sense of the whole Saturn-in-retrograde thing being a negative. But, by that point, I was kind of developing my own, real-world context for what we were talking about here and I needed her boxed example a little less.

Concerned, I turned to the Internet (the number one source for all of your astrological needs!) to learn more about this pressing Saturn issue, only to learn that most sources counted us well-clear of the retrograde business two weeks ago. Good information for another yoga class perhaps, but in all honestly, the season’s dire diagnosis—even with all of the attendant mishaps I might be able to collect to support it—simply cannot stick to me for long.

The mornings are crisp and fall’s palate cannot be denied even by the desert, finding a place for itself even in my backyard. There are pumpkins on our porch and a bag of fake fur in my dining room, just waiting to be transformed into something that would help my son pass for a smaller, milder version of the yeti. And while the light fades a little earlier each afternoon, it still somehow manages to render the world clearer as it goes, illuminating the potential for both my real-world work and the magic brought into being by it just out of sight as we wander into the growing dark together.

It really is my time of year.